


Give Us Tomorrow

by kingcael



Series: Give Us Tomorrow [1]
Category: Final Fantasy X
Genre: Family, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-05-11 19:27:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5639215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingcael/pseuds/kingcael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pre-game. Auron travels to Dream Zanarkand to fulfil a promise to a friend. After the events of the Final Summoning, he wonders if he is a suitable guardian at all. Rating for blood, and depiction of trauma, implied abuse. Multi-chapter, based on a series of drawings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Guardian

**Author's Note:**

> Drawings that inspired this work can be found on my blog, kingcael.tumblr.com

She cried when she saw me walking up the pier.

I saw her before she saw me. She looked like an old flower, neglected to the point that she was withering of her own accord. Against the sizzling colours of the sunset, she was insubstantial and pale.

The boy, Tidus, was holding on to her skirt, and was shifting from foot to foot. He tugged on her skirt, and she looked away from the blazing skyline and saw me.

I probably looked hideous. My face was obscured by a ragged scar, and my clothes were ripped and dirty. I could feel the tickling trickle of blood flowing underneath my armour, but ignored it as best I could.

I don't know how, but without a word, she reached a conclusion. Her hands shook, and she slowly sank to her knees.

I saw a bird fall from a nest once, when I was young. It just lost all its energy, said the man in charge of the temple. Lovebirds die when they lose their mates.

Tidus tried to comfort her, but she pushed him away, hiding her face.

A lump formed in my throat as I saw her bony hand push her son away. It was such a selfish gesture.

I stepped forward, and Tidus glared at me, his bright blue eyes shining. His stare was accusatory, trying to be fierce, but there was turmoil behind it. Like his father. So like his father.

"Who are you?" Tidus demanded, standing defensively in front of his mother. "What do you want?"

"My name is Auron." I stopped, my heart pounding. Jecht didn't tell me it would be like this. "I was sent here…"

"By my husband?" She stood up, her voice whispering out of her mouth like a quavery flute. "Jecht sent you, didn't he?"

"He… did." My own voice was small.

"He's dead," she whispered. "He's dead."

"I… I don't know," I replied. "He said to come find you."

She stood up, her head still hung low.

Tidus frowned, and turned around. "Mommy, don't listen. This guy doesn't even know stupid old dad."

He grabbed her hand, and she wrenched it out of his grasp. Without another word, she turned on her heel and walked resolutely to the end of the pier. Eight steps. She paused a moment, and then hopped off.

"Mommy!" Tidus ran to the end of the pier, and looked down. I assumed she was swimming away, but his panic suggested otherwise. "Mommy, what are you doing? You're not even trying!"

I hurried to the end of the dock, wincing at every step. The water was lapping fiercely against the pier, and a foam of bubbles was all the evidence that she had jumped.

"You made her jump!" Tidus kicked my shin, and tugged at my robe, little fists frantic.

I looked from him to the water, and, after dropping my sword on the deck, I jumped in after her. The water slapped me full across the face, and I sunk like a stone. I could see her watery form coalescing in a swath of bubbles and flowing fabric. I swam to her, and grabbed her around the waist, kicking hard off the bottom and swimming upward with her in tow. Jecht would have done this with much more grace and efficiency. She was a dead weight, and seemed to subconsciously want to drown me. I choked, and swam one handed to the pier where Tidus seemed to have alerted someone to the problem. More capable hands took her from me, and it was all I could do to cling to the pier. I could feel the wounds on my body opening under the bandages, the water was red all around me. Was it my robe… the sunset…?

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He doesn't even know he's dead._

_He is though, or he wouldn't be here._

_Is that right? His mind seems to think he's still alive._

_Of course it does. He wouldn't be bleeding if it didn't._

o-o-o-o-o-o

I coughed, and sat up, my head spinning. I feel like I drank my entire bottle in one go. My mouth felt like it had cotton stuffed in it. A rhythmic swaying of the room made me feel nauseous. What happened-?

New bandages covered my body, and I was sitting in a dark room. There was light from down a hallway, and a murmuring of voices.

"You're lying!" Tidus' voice, followed by a chorus of 'shh'.

"No!" He cried again, and I could hear his feet stamping against the floor boards. His steps got louder, and he ran into the room. He saw me, and his face twisted into a furious expression. "Why did you have to come here, huh?"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I didn't mean-"

"It doesn't matter!" Tidus spat. "I don't need you! We don't need you! Get out!"

I nodded, and stood up. My armour was on the table next to the sofa I had been lying on, and I gathered it and my bottle, which was still full. Good. I was going to need that. My sword was leaning against the wall by what I assumed was the front door.

A wave of dizziness spun my steps, and I stumbled, putting my hand out to catch my balance against the sofa. I misjudged the distance, and crashed head first into the nearby stair. I cursed, damning the loss of my eye. Some warrior.

"Tidus!" A voice hissed. "What are you doing? This man needs rest!"

"I'm going," I said. "He asked me to go." I pushed myself up, still feeling incredibly dizzy. I was fairly certain there was a stair-shaped indent in my forehead now.

"Don't be ridiculous!" The new person, an older woman said. Her voice was like a twig snapping. She approached me, and lifted me up with surprising strength. "Get back on that sofa, young man, or you'll have a worse time of it than you already do."

She pushed me down on the sofa, and I finally got a look at her face. Like an old apple, but still ripe in the cheeks.

"Gemma, he's weird, and I don't want him here!" Tidus stood beside her, his hands balled into fists.

"Tidus, that is enough out of you. This man just saved your mother." She cleared the hair from my face, and readjusted what felt like sticky paper against my forehead. "You could do with being a bit more grateful."

"But he-!" Tidus cut himself off. He turned to me, and looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on my scarred eye. "I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's fine. I'm… sorry too."

Gemma pursed her lips, and uncorked a bottle with a pop. "Drink this, and don't you try to stand up again until at least the morning."

I took the bottle with a trembling hand. Trembling. I'm pathetic. I downed the bottle, and handed it back to her.

"Lay down," she ordered, and I obliged. With a fluid movement, she draped a heavy woollen blanket over me, and tucked it in on the sides.

She sat in the chair beside the window, and took out a pipe. Tidus hesitantly sat at my feet, squished between the arm of the sofa and me.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Auron."

"Yes. And you are from?"

I paused, wondering what I should say. "Bevelle."

A puff of smoke clouded around her, and then whisked out the window. She looked at me, and something bright flickered in her eye. Recognition, perhaps. "And you met Jecht there?"

I felt Tidus stiffen, and he crossed his arms.

"Yes, we were… comrades."

"He's dead?"

"I don't know."

"He sent you here? You don't seem in good condition. If you made it here, and he didn't, he must have been worse off than you, and you've got a foot in the grave."

I didn't know what that meant, but I took it to be a bad thing. "He told me to look after his son."

"He did. Are you going to?" Gemma asked, looking at me appraisingly. I tried to return her stare, but my eyelid drooped.

"To the best of my abilities. I'll guard him with my life."

"You hear that, Tidus?" Gemma tapped her pipe in the nearby ashtray. "You've got a guardian."

Guardian… the word thrummed in my mind. I could see them, silhouettes standing before the pearlescent light of Sin.

A shrieking roar, and Jecht was different, thrashing black and red against the swirling forms around him.

And Braska… he smiled at me. He was pure, shining brightly as he commanded Jecht. Our friend… His Final Aeon.

"Take care of my son."

"Thank you, Auron."

"My son, in Zanarkand. He's such a crybaby."

"Thank you for being here with me in the end."

"He needs someone there to hold his hand, see?"

"It's… it's over. I brought the Calm, didn't I?"

"Take care of him, will you?"

"Thank you for being my guardian."

I didn't realise my hands were clutching my face until someone pulled them away. My fingernails raked against my skin, and something wet was on my palms. A low cry held long in my chest croaked out of my throat, and I felt tears burning in my eye. "No… I can't do it… But I have to protect…" I failed them, my friends, and I'm still here and I can't help them and I  _failed._ No. I'll keep him safe. The promise seared through me, and I cried out. "I promise, Jecht!"

"-that bottle, yes, thank you, Tidus."

Glass touched my lips, and I parted them, eager for anything that might end the feeling strangling me. I swallowed thickly, grabbing at whatever was holding my hands down. Small hands. I relaxed, and they squeezed tightly.

I'm not a guardian.

I'm too weak.

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He doesn't belong here._

_He's seen too much sadness. These people won't understand._

_I don't think we can make him leave._

_You're right._

o-o-o-o-o-o

Morning eased into the room in a haze of dusty sunlight. I opened my eye and closed it again, mentally adjusting to the brightness. The rocking of the room was gentler than last night, though not particularly comfortable for me. I felt almost unbearably warm, the soft breeze that washed over my face was refreshing.

My body was heavy, I couldn't move the weight of the blanket. I looked down, and realised why the blanket felt so heavy.

Tidus was sleeping on me, draped over my legs with his head on my chest. The sofa was certainly large enough to accommodate both of us, so he didn't look uncomfortable at least.

I retraced my thoughts, remembering the night before. I was saying things, rambling. Something sent me back to Spira in my memories.

Small hands anchored me.

Someone walked by, behind the sofa, taking great care to not make too much noise. Based on the gait, I guessed it to be Gemma.

"It's not long now…" Her voice was low, and the deep rumble of an old man's voice answered.

"She seems relieved. We went over the will. She said it'll all go to the boy. And that  _he's_  supposed to stay here. Something about how it was her husband's wish." The old man sounded sceptical.

"I suppose it must have been," Gemma said. "He says he knew Jecht. There's… something strange about him. As if he's from another world."

"His clothing… that sword. I've never seen anything like that around here. That's something you might see in a museum."

I coughed, unable to hold it back any longer. I heard both of them suppress a gasp, and Gemma padded over to the sofa, placing the back of her hand on my forehead.

"Still burning up, hm? I think you need some food," she said, and gently shook Tidus' shoulder. "Good morning, you. What do you want to eat?"

"O'meal," he mumbled, burying his face in my chest.

"Well it's good he took such a shine to you," Gemma said, busying herself in the kitchen. "He's emotional, that one."

"No, I'm not!" Tidus sat up, pushing painfully on my ribs. I must have visibly winced, because he scrambled off me, blushing. "S-sorry!"

"It's fine," I said. I sat up too, easing backwards, and leaned against the back of the sofa. "I'm sorry to be such a burden."

"We were already well-equipped to deal with something like this," Gemma said. I decided I liked her matter-of-fact tone. She reminded me of my teacher.

Breakfast was a largely silent affair; the old man, whose name was Abel, kept giving me suspicious looks. Anything he might have said was quickly intercepted by a warning glance from his wife.

Afterwards, they accompanied me upstairs, to the top of the houseboat for some fresh air. It was a peaceful day, with the odd seagull dipping down into the bay and people fishing off the pier. I was reminded of Besaid, until I looked behind me and saw the monolithic cityscape. My red robe was hanging on a laundry line, along with my pants and belt. Looking around briefly to make sure I wouldn't be scolded for moving around too much, I stood, and plucked my robe from the line, sliding it over the thin shirt I had been given. Instantly, I felt more comfortable, and sat back down, combing my fingers through my hair.

After a few minutes, I decided to find my belongings, particularly my comb. As I descended the stairs, Tidus tore past me, with tears in his eyes. He huffed over to the side of the boat, and sat, with his back to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's Mom," he said.

"Is she all right?"

He pounded his little fist on the deck, hostile once more. "Why should you care?"

"If she dies, I wouldn't know what to do."

This was the wrong thing to say. Young death was an anomaly in Zanarkand. It was a peaceful life, with a peaceful end at a ripe age. In Spira, death was something that was ordinary, accepted as much as the sun and the sea.

"Don't say Mom is gonna die!" he cried, getting to his feet.

"I apologize," I said, but he was already leaving. I stood in the stairwell for a time, looking over the deck to the bustle of life beyond this houseboat.

I returned to the living room where my little area had been established, and found my comb after a moment of searching. After a few minutes of clumsily combing my too-far-gone hair, Gemma entered the room with a large pitcher and a defeated look. She clicked her tongue when she saw me, and shook her head.

"I can't do anything for someone who won't even try," she said. "Your arrival killed her hope."

I swallowed, and put my hands in my lap. "That was not my intention."

"I know. I'm just frustrated." Gemma took the comb, and began straightening out the matted mess of my hair. "She asked if you would take care of Tidus after… well. You know. Abel and I have been looking after them for the past month or so. Making sure he goes to school on time and such. But he needs someone at home."

"I see."

"You're going to try, aren't you? To be a good guardian?"

That word… I wish she'd stop saying it. I blinked quickly, trying to ignore the images that flashed in my mind's eye. If I had just been stronger… I could have done something.

"Auron, please! Just run away!"

"I can't leave you, not now!"

Rocks blasted upwards as the thing that was Jecht thrashed against Sin, throwing his sword and hacking into it. Braska lost his footing, and I grabbed his arm, hoisting him out of the newly-formed hole.

Sin screeched, and a blade of Sinspawn slashed in front of me. Braska leapt in front of it, pushing me aside. The Sinspawn cut through his robe, and blood splashed backwards, a few drops stinging my right eye. "Please, Auron. Please, run away from here!" His voice was frantic, and his eyes were too blue.

"My lord, I can't! I'm your guardian!"

Someone was pulling me away from him, stop it, stop! I have to go to him! I was being dragged away, but kept reaching for him. I can't let him go by himself.

He smiled and turned away.

"Please, get a hold of yourself," Gemma's voice. Right. It's over.

I shook my head, and took a deep breath.

"That's right, let go," she said. I looked up, and felt my hands on my face again. It felt like my fingertips left bruises. I relaxed, and she guided my hands down. "It's all right. You're safe here."

I looked down at my hands. They were shaking. They shouldn't be doing that. Drops landed on them. My vision blurred. I remembered.

Gemma moved away from me for a moment, and then I felt a soft cloth on my face. "Something terrible happened," she said.

I nodded.

"You were supposed to protect someone."

I nodded again.

"But you couldn't," she said, catching my tears with the soft cloth.

I tried to reply with dignity, but the 'I couldn't' that left my lips was pathetic and cracked.

"But you made it here, didn't you? You're going to protect the boy?"

"Yes."

"Good," she patted my cheek with her wrinkled hand, and stood up. "Then I'll protect you. I'll avoid that word."

"Thank you…"

"You're welcome. Now hang on, I have to redress that wound on your face. You're going to have quite a scar if you keep tearing it back open like that."

I sat still, closing my eyes, and letting the sound of the ocean and the birds soothe me. Maybe this is where Jecht sat when he wanted a quiet moment. Perhaps just like this.

Gemma made short work of the redressing, and then picked up the comb as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

I can't keep slipping away like that. I have to keep it together. I keep failing, Jecht, I'm sorry.

"Beautiful hair you have," she said, interrupting my thoughts. "Black as night. Too bad about all the grey, hm? You wear it well, though. Kind of a silver fox. Not like Abel, he didn't even get that stage. It all fell out when he turned 50." She laughed to herself. "But don't mention it, he's pretty sensitive. He used to be handsome like you."

I remained silent, but she seemed unbothered.

"You were some kind of historian, I take it? Why else would you have the sword and the odd clothes, hm?"

I wondered if she was giving me an out, some way to explain my oddities. "Yes… I did a lot of travelling before I arrived here. I met Jecht on my travels, and he sent me here."

"That's right," she said approvingly, combing from my scalp to the ends of my hair. "There. Back in order, though a bit greasy, sweetheart. I'll tie it back."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

A few hours passed before Tidus returned, with a scraped knee and dirt on his clothes. Gemma was already preparing dinner, and tutted at his appearance. "I might as well start a hospital, huh?" She pointed at me. "You there, sweetie, there's some antiseptic and bandages in that case. Fix him up, will you?"

I obliged, putting my book down. Tidus shuffled over to me, and sat down. His face was grubby, and it looked like he'd been crying. I said nothing, except to ask him what antiseptic was.

He showed me the little bottle of clear liquid. "It's to make cuts better, but it hurts."

"I see. Do you drink it?" I asked, squinting at the label.

"No. Are you dumb?"

"I've never seen this before."

"You're weird."

"I know."

"You put it on the cut or whatever."

"I see." I poured some on a piece of gauze and dabbed his scraped knee. He hissed, but remained still. I could see Gemma watching us closely. She was probably passing some kind of judgment on me. Favourable, I hope, if I'm going to keep this promise.

He put the sticky bandage on himself, and then scurried off somewhere.

"Make sure you wash your hands!" Gemma called after him.

There was a silence, and I picked up my book again, back to the chapter about famous Zanarkand monuments.

"He trusts you already," Gemma said. "He seems prickly, but he's fairly naïve, that one. He's guarded around most people, so it's nice to see."

"I want to be someone he can trust. I made a promise."

"You seem like the type to keep a promise."

"I hope to be."

Abel was absent for dinner, and Gemma left shortly afterwards, stating something about having to make arrangements with a man about Tidus' mother. No one had spoken her name in front of me. Jecht rarely did, and whenever he did, he'd smile slightly with the shape of her name.

My bones ached, and I lay down on the sofa with the Zanarkand history book. Gemma had given me some water and a bottle that she said had a potion for dreamless sleep, in case I had a nightmare or something. She also mentioned not to use it if I didn't need it, since it was quite expensive.

That explains the blurry sleep of last night, at least.

Late in the evening, I became aware of Tidus in the doorway, watching me. I waited for him to do something, pretending I hadn't noticed his presence.

He floundered for a moment, and then stepped into the room. "My room is cold," he announced.

"Did you need a blanket?" I looked around, the only available one was across my knees. "Here." I offered it, but he didn't move to take it.

"Can I… sleep where I slept last night?"

I blinked, and then nodded, adjusting myself to make more room.

He stepped over me, and then settled in, resting his head against my chest. "Auron."

"Yes?"

"I was making sure I knew it. How do you spell it?"

I spelled it out for him, and he nodded.

"Easy, five letters, just like mine. You have more vowels than me, though."

"Yes."

He began fiddling with the metal ring on the front of my robe, flipping it back and forth between his small fingers.

"Auron, can I ask you a question?"

"I won't lie to you."

"Is my dad dead?"

"…I don't know."

He didn't reply, and I couldn't think of anything else to say.

We fell asleep.


	2. Nightmare

**Nightmare**

It looked like the clouds were on fire. Pyreflies soared in huge flocks, twisting and bursting, like a funereal fireworks show.

A rock was digging into my back, and my neck was twisted painfully back. I coughed, and eased myself up, wondering what had just happened. We had just camped in the Calm Lands… no… Gagazet… no…

We’d returned.

I sat up, scrambling over the rocks and clumps of grass and dirt.

“Braska!” I called, climbing over crumbling sand. “Jecht!” It was quiet. Frantically, I scanned the horizon, looking for a spot of colour, a signal of my friends, anything.

A glimmer of light in the hazy distance flashed twice. I ran towards it, limping. My ankle was throbbing, and I tripped, knocking the wind out of my chest.

Something was wriggling in the distance, it looked like Sinspawn. The glimmer shone again, and I got to my feet as best I could, running despite the pain.

“My lord!” I called again. “Jecht! Where are you?”

“Auron,” Braska’s voice, distantly. The glimmer waved, and I squinted, realising it was Braska’s staff. The ornamentation was bent and broken. He’s still alive. Maybe he won’t die. Maybe we can walk away from here together. Hope lifted my spirits and I ran faster.

“My lord!” I dropped to his side, steadying him where he knelt. My sword was stuck in the ground next to him. A Sinspawn was cleaved in two around the sharp edge, and Braska rested his forehead against the flat of the blade. His robe was ripped, and his headdress had been long discarded.

“It’s over,” he said, and dropped his staff. He looked at me, and his eyes were shining, the brightest blue. “We did it, Auron.”

“My lord, we-” I began.

“Are you alright?” he interrupted, touching my face. His fingers were cold. Unusual for him. “You’re hurt.” A spark burned against my forehead, and he drew his hand away. He looked confused. “I can’t seem to heal you.”

“My- Braska, it’s fine. What about you?” I grabbed his hand, trying to warm it. It burned me again, and I gasped.

Pyreflies. His fingers had already begun to disappear.

“Pretty,” he laughed, and his nose started to bleed. He fell into my arms, still smiling. “Thank you, Auron. Thank you for being here with me in the end.” He leaned into my chest, like he would on nights that were especially cold. His arms wrapped around my waist, an insubstantial embrace. The pyreflies scorched my skin but I held him close, as if I could force him back together.

“Braska, no, please. Heal yourself. Quickly!” I began to panic, realising what was happening, but rejecting it at the same time. I dug in my pockets one-handed, looking for a Phoenix Down, or a potion, anything. Nothing.

“It’s… it’s over. I brought the Calm, didn’t I?” His voice didn’t shake, still as resolute as ever.

“You did. You did so well.” I could feel tears overflowing now, splashing into his hair, I held him tighter, whispering. “Please, please don’t disappear…”

“Take this to Yuna,” he said, his barely-visible fingers pushing his silver beaded bracelet into my hand. “It’s all I have.”

I cried, clutching the bracelet, and pulled all that was left of him to me. “Braska, please…” My breath caught in shuddering gasps, and I trembled, feeling the heat of the pyreflies intensify.

“Thank you for being my guardian.”

I put my hands to my face, sitting in the middle of the Calm Lands, and screamed.

I was alone.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He’s alone._

_There’s no one like him here._

_I still don’t like it._

_His will is absolute._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I sat up, gasping and coughing like I had just surfaced from underwater. My hands were clamped to my face again, and stiff.

Awkwardly, I pulled them away, straining to relax my fingers. It was dark in the living room, and the only sound was the lapping water outside the window. I became aware of the sound of my breathing, and clamped my hands to my mouth to stifle the noise. I counted my breaths, short and fast through my nose until they regulated. Something was running down my face. I probably tore my wound open again.

I can still feel the pyreflies on my skin. Braska’s pyreflies. I groaned, my stomach churned, and I readjusted, pushing my foot onto something warm.

My heart jumped, and I opened my eye, trying to focus with only half my vision. Tidus’ eyes were shining in the dark, and he was sitting at my feet, looking at me.

My cheeks grew hot, and I tried to speak. To say something to reassure him, or make it seem less than it was. He didn’t move, or make a sound.

“S-sorry,” I managed eventually.

“You were talking a lot. And you pulled my hair.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. My hands ached. I must have been rough.

“You said my dad’s name.”

I remained silent, wondering what else I might have said.

“And something like ‘Braska’. You cried.” He didn’t sound accusatory, or mocking. Just factual.

“I miss them,” I said.

“My mom misses my dad. That’s why she’s sick.” His words were small in the infinity of black, and he began to worry the blanket above my foot. “Are you- are you sick?”

I thought about the nightmare, and the lapses in my sanity yesterday. My memories were too strong; they’re better than me. But I didn’t want to die.

That’s not true. I did want to die. I wanted to go to my friends, and be at peace, to rest in Braska’s Calm knowing that we did all we could. But I didn’t do all I could. Something knocked me out in the battle against Sin. I wasn’t there when he needed me, I was a failed guardian.

I trembled, and images began to resurface. The pitted Calm Lands, a rain of stars, and Jecht’s body. It didn’t disappear like Braska’s. Sinspawn surrounded him-

“Hey, stop it.” Tidus’ small hands were pulling my hands away from my face. “Gemma’s gonna be mad that you didn’t listen.”

I let him put my arms down, and looked up at him. He seemed to be trying not to cry, he looked like his father. I stared at him, memorizing every detail. “I’m not sick like your mom.”

He nodded, and sat down. He leaned against me, with his hands on his knees. “A bunch of strangers keep telling me to smile. I hate it.”

I listened, curling around him slightly.

“I don’t feel like it. Dad always said that crying is for babies. But all I wanna do is cry. Mom doesn’t even care, so I just do what I want and-“ He let out a frustrated sound, pounding his fist into his knee. He whipped around, finding my gaze in the dark. “Do you think I’m being dumb?”

“No.”

He was obviously disarmed by that. “Well, neither are you,” he said gruffly, patting my shoulder. He yawned, and rubbed his eyes.

“You should sleep, little one,” I said.

“I’m not little!” Tidus said. “…Can I still sleep here?”

“I don’t mind. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Have some potion, maybe.” He stood up, and rearranged the blanket from its crumpled knots. “Gemma said it’s important that you sleep.”

I nodded, and took the bottle. I wasn’t sure how much to take, so I settled on a small mouthful. It tasted like Al Bhed potion. Thick like honey.

As we adjusted and got comfortable, I could feel the potion’s effects numbing my arms and legs. It worked up my extremities, making them feel like they were disappearing. Like Braska…

The thoughts numbed, and became wispy, and my hands stayed at my side. This potion really works wonders.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He doesn’t know._

_What a fool._

_Someone should tell him._

_Let him dream, let him believe._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

The darkness fell away like a sheet, and I was sitting before I realised I was awake.

“Good afternoon,” Gemma said. Her voice sounded far away, and I looked around blearily, rubbing my scarred eye. It stung. “You’re really determined to wreck your face, huh?”

“Good afternoon,” I replied, smacking my lips.

“There’s water there,” she indicated the end table. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m-“

“Tidus says you were awake in the night,” Gemma lit her pipe, settling further into the wicker chair by the window. “Did you need to talk about it?”

I debated just spilling it all to her, someone who knows nothing of the rest of Spira. She’d think I was insane. She’d never let me stay. It’d be a weight off my chest to just say it out loud.

“If you hold on to it like that, you might go crazy,” she puffed her pipe. “Or you’ll find a stupid way of controlling it.” Gemma looked meaningfully at the bottle of potion. “It is half past three in the afternoon. I realise you’re injured, but you were in dreamless sleep. It’s not advised to be taken for that long. The doctors say it can lead to disappearing.”

“Disappearing?”

“People can become lost in their dreams in this city,” Gemma said. “They can give up and just disappear into a dream.”

“How?” I stood up, testing my feet on the floor before committing. I stretched carefully, and caught my scent, quickly putting my arms down.

“Yes, you smell,” Gemma smirked, and tapped her pipe. “Some people speculate that because of the events a thousand years ago, the city state has changed.”

“What was it like before?”

“Well, a metropolis, like your Bevelle, but built on ‘the ideals and dreams of the Summoners’. More or less, it’s something more magical. The city itself is an entity. Something sentient that should be appreciated. When someone becomes disillusioned with the wonders of Zanarkand, it can reject them and they disappear.”

“They die…?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“His mother… She’s…”

“She’s given up. Her wonder has gone.” She sounded bitter, like there was something more than Tidus’ mother bothering her.

I folded my arms, and looked over the books in the shelf next to Gemma. The spines were blurry, but I realised what was there. Information. Information about a world apart from Spira. These books could hold the key to defeating Sin. Properly.

The thing I saw… the thing that devoured Jecht. I need to find out what it was.

“I can help you with those, if you need. His mother was quite a historian herself, and some of those old texts are a little tricky.”

“Thank you,” I said, approaching the bookcase.

“There’s something wrong with this city,” Gemma said softly, looking out the window and following her smoke trail. “The dream must end.”

I looked down at her, wondering what she was thinking after such an odd statement.

“I can smell you from here, sweetheart. You should probably go shower.”

“What’s a shower?”

Gemma had a remarkable way of not making me feel stupid when explaining things to me. After accompanying me to the bathroom once again, she indicated the bathtub, and the spout-like attachment on the wall. She twisted a knob, and hot water poured out of the spout in a rain-like spray.

It was fantastic.

She helped me undress, I felt like a young child again. Gemma did look a bit like my mother, though certainly more wrinkled. She peeled the bandages from my back and arm, and surveyed the damage. I tried not to look, but caught a brief reflection in the large mirror. The image was blurry, but I could see angry red splashed over my body, carving down my arms and torso. The largest scar continued past my hips and well onto my thigh. I blushed a bit at my nakedness, I wasn’t used to being around anyone other than my comrades. She was thoroughly unabashed, checking on the wounds and taking care to remove the bandages without much pain. The last one on my neck hurt the most, but she took great care, apparently noticing my discomfort.

“Here we are,” Gemma held my arm as I stepped over the edge of the bathtub into the warm rain. “Soaps, and all that right there. Don’t slip,” she said, pointing at a bar attached to the wall. “Grab that if you do, and make some noise. I’ll come help you if I can hear. I’ll make you some soup, all right?”

I nodded, and grabbed the bar with my right arm. The water was soothing, but stinging in certain places. I grabbed a small bar of purple soap, and passed it over my underarms, thankful for the strong perfume.

It reminded me of Jecht. It makes sense, I suppose. I remember him shopping with more interest than his personality suggested at a soap stand. Maybe he was just looking for something that reminded him of home. He did eventually find whatever this purple soap is, and made sure to have a couple bars with him.

I miss Braska’s tea. If I could have one thing from Spira… that would be it.

I took a deep breath, and shook my head, stepping further into the hot water. It washed over my hair, pulling it in front of me in ropy black strands. I tugged at one, wondering if it was all going to turn grey. An old man before my time. Jecht would laugh at me. I scrubbed some soap over my scalp, and let it rinse away, watching the bubbles flow around my feet.

A bath would be better, I thought. That might only be because standing is difficult right now.

After running drills and sparring in the temple yards, the acolytes would all go to the baths for a long soak. I became almost addicted, under the impression that bruises couldn’t stick if you washed them away. I ran my fingers over my scarred left arm.

Maybe if I stood here long enough, I could leave clean.

I shook my head, and turned the knob. The water didn’t stop, but got painfully cold. I actually cried out and the sudden change, and turned the knob again. This time, it turned off, and I was standing in the bathtub, shivering and soaking wet.

Carefully, I stepped over the bathtub, and found a towel, hastily wrapping it around me. I was so cold. I wondered if Gagazet felt this cold.

I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and dabbed myself dry as best as I could. My hands felt like ice on my hot scars, and the previously mentioned soup hastened me. I wrapped the towel around my waist, and gingerly pulled my robe on, looking for some pants. Gemma took the rest of my clothes away.

My hair was already soaking a wet spot on the back of my robe, and I brought it forward, about to wring it out when the door opened, and Tidus walked in with a stack of clothes. “These are stupid dad’s. Gemma says you need new clothes.”

Jecht’s clothes. Strange. I expected something more outlandish, but they were mostly black.

“And there’s some soup, so don’t take too long.” His gaze lingered over my chest, in the piercing manner that only children have. He said nothing about the scars, and then left.

Jecht’s clothes were a bit too short for me, but cozy, presumably for fishing in the cold bay. I opted to go without a shirt, but held my robe together with a brown belt.

My steps were quiet, but each one sent pain shooting up my leg and chest. With more effort than I would have thought necessary, I made it to the sofa, and sank down with a long breath.

The soup was bright yellow, and saltier than anything I had ever tasted. Strange. It was hot, and I appreciated it.

Gemma examined me afterwards, and redressed my wounds, after slathering them with a thick white paste. Initially, it stung, but soothed the burning pain.

“She wants to talk to you,” she said quietly, eyeing Tidus playing at the table. “About her husband.”

I pressed my lips together, and shivered. The shower sapped all my heat.

“Now would be good, I’ll get him started on his homework.”

“All right,” I said, heading towards the mysterious hallway at the back of the houseboat. Beyond that door, that frail woman waited.

It took her a full ten seconds to look away from the window and to me when I entered.

“You…” she beckoned me closer, motioning to the chair beside the bed. “Tell me about my Jecht.”

I pulled my robe tighter around me, the chill of this room was unbearable. The floor felt like ice. The inn near Macalania had floors like this. I wished I had put socks on.

I sat, and looked at her. Still pale, and thin. Her hand looked like polished porcelain, like I had seen in the more affluent temples in Bevelle.

“My Jecht… Did he talk about me?”

“He did,” I said. “He said he missed you and Tidus.”

“He missed me. What happened to him?”

“I’m not certain,” I tried not to think about it, the Sinspawn, the black thing that dripped from the jaws of the monstrosity that was Sin. Jecht’s body, the Aeon he became, overcome with a thousand wriggling Sinspawn.

“-he tried to come home, right?”

I shook my head, pinching my hand to further ground me in this reality. “Yes, he wanted to show you pictures of the things he saw.”

“He was your friend?”

“One of my best friends.”

“Did you have fun together?” A hostility crept into her voice, and her eyes narrowed. I wasn’t sure how to answer that question when it was posed in that tone of voice.

“Yes, I suppose we did.” I said slowly, watching her reaction. Her lips pressed into a hard line, and she glowered at me.

“So he was happy while he was away?”

“Sometimes… yes.”

Her eyes flashed, and she looked away, breathing hard through her nose. “Happy without me…”

I shook my head, and stood up, leaning over the bed slightly to catch her gaze.. “He talked of you often, about how he missed home, and wanted to bring all sorts of things home to your son-“

She shrieked, and struck out, slashing my face with her fingernails. Like a fiend. Unsent people become unstable like this. She’s becoming a fiend. Her face is twisting, and becoming something else.

I’m defenseless right now. My sword is in the next room. I stumbled back, falling over the chair, and landed hard on my left arm. I must have shouted, I heard the sound.

I have to protect them. I forced myself to my feet, and stood as tall as I could before the shrieking woman. Fear plunged ice into my heart, and I shook, trying to remain resolute. Once she struck again, I would try to contain the fiend.

I readied myself, my hands up in the defensive stance taught to me in my first class in training. Defense of others, your first priority. Let your own bones break if that will spare another. Your body is not to be considered sacred. Order of Yevon keep me strong for I am but one man and I have no strength without the fear of Death.

“What is going on in here?” Gemma was at the door, and I spread my arms wider, looking back at her.

“A fiend-“ I began, and something smashed into me. I landed hard on my back, and felt bony fingers on my throat.

“Give him back! Why didn’t you bring him back? Why didn’t you-!” Her hands wrapped around my neck fully and smashed the back of my head into the floor.

Not a fiend.

A distraught widow. Woman. I don’t know if he’s dead. She’s not a widow until- My head hit the floor again, and black spots clustered at the corner of my vision.

The fingers left my throat, and I could hear the sound of crying. Mother and son. I wish I hadn’t come here. They wouldn’t be crying if I wasn’t here. I should leave.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_She sees he doesn’t belong._

_She was foolish._

_She doesn’t belong._

_He is who we need._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Up you get now, come on, sweetheart.”

Mama? It’s too early. I’m too tired. Please go away, Mama.

“Auron!” Her voice got sharper, like usual. I had to get up and wake everyone else up and then go feed the chickens and… wait.

I opened my eye, wishing I would just stay asleep one of these times.

Gemma was hovering over me with a bottle of sharp smelling liquid. I was familiar with the scent, and blinked up at her a couple times. “I can’t let you do a damn thing alone, hm?”

“A fiend. She was a fiend,” I rasped.

“Fiends don’t often show up here. You were mistaken.”

I shook my head, rattling the beads of a headache. “I saw.”

“Enough.”

I went silent.

“She’s dead.”

 

 

 


	3. Protect

**Protect**

I remember when I received the news that my mother died.

I had been in the Temple for nearly eleven years by then, and was nearly at the end of my acolyte training.

Evening in Bevelle was always beautiful. Deepest black amidst the shining jewel tones. I was walking home from a meeting with one of the more influential men of the Order, an understudy of Grand Maester Mika. He hinted at several things I wasn’t particularly interested in. Political moves and advantageous alignments. Busywork. My main focus was simply the defence of the people. Bureaucracy did not appeal to me. The monks seemed to be grooming me for better things. Sometimes there would be the odd trinket in my belongings, things to adorn my uniform. Sometimes an extra portion of meat with my dinner. Sometimes a special invitation to meet with a visiting Maester.

Special treatment resulted in resentment.

The streets were bustling; people were preparing for the upcoming festival, as well as for the pilgrims that would be arriving for the upcoming festival. I recognised a fair few of them from the temple, and nodded as I passed some fellow acolytes as I turned down a shortcut alley.

“Auron!” One of them called out, and I turned.

“Oh, Gillam, good eve-“ I began, when someone grabbed me from behind. I reacted quickly, and elbowed whoever it was in the side of the head. Several more hands clamped around my arms, and someone kicked my legs out from under me. My knees slammed into the stones, and I winced.

“Where were you tonight, huh?” Gillam approached me, holding a nearly empty bottle. He looked down at me on my knees, and took a swig. “Off being the pet prince?”

“I had a meeting with Understudy Marchand,” I replied. I sometimes wished I could lie, but I never had any talent for it.

“We know. We’re sick of you getting pampered and paraded around, like you’re something special,” he spat, and twirled the bottle. It flipped out of his fingers, and smashed against the alley wall.

I narrowed my eyes, wondering if this was all a joke. “I need to be going.”

“Sure, but before you go…” Gillam wound up, as if he were aiming for a blitzball, and kicked me hard in the face. An unsettling crack split the air, and white hot pain pierced my skull. Their hands released me, and my hands flew to my face. Blood. A loose, but not lost tooth. My nose wasn’t the same shape.

My eyes watered, and I watched the others leave. When I was sure they were gone, I let myself react. I gasped, and steeled myself, about to push my nose back into place. On three, I thought to myself.

One.

Two.

“Excuse me?”

What? I looked around, raising my eyes to the newcomer. A plainly dressed man, holding a note.

“Ah… are you acolyte Auron? From Locke Village?” When I didn’t answer, he consulted his note. “Long black hair, and a grumpy face. Probably wearing red.”

“Yes,” I stood up, using the wall for support. “Do you need help?”

“No, but it looks like you could,” he shifted from foot to foot. “I, ah, I have a message for you.”

I wiped some of the blood flowing from my nose, raking past the cut on my lip. “Speak, then.”

“Well, it’s… it’s about your mother.”

“She is well?” I hadn’t heard from her in a few months. Unusual, but I imagined she had been busy with the new hired help. I held my nose, wishing I had a handkerchief to stem the flow. “I have plans to visit next-“

“She’s dead,” he blurted out.

I stared.

The silence was stilted, interrupted by the revelry on the streets.

“Dead,” I repeated.

“I’m sorry,” he said, holding out a small bag. “These things were left to you.”

I reached out with both hands, as if I were going to embrace my mother. He dropped the bag, and bowed.

“I’m truly sorry.”

I said nothing, and stood still, looking down at the rough cloth bag. Slowly, I pulled the drawstring, and opened the bag.

Bright blue and yellow, dented and shining, rough and smooth.

Mama’s beads.

Tidus received more than beads, but I can’t imagine it was welcome. Certainly, just to see her, to feel the warm touch of his mother is what he really needed. Not a houseboat and his father’s legacy.

He had confined himself to his bedroom since… since it happened. I understood. I myself haven’t moved from the sofa, wrapped up in blankets. I’ve been so cold.

Absently, I spun the largest of Mama’s beads, running my fingers over the white ring encircling it. I wondered what she might have looked like at the end. Peaceful, I hoped. Not screaming and wailing, striking out in pain and confusion. I shifted the beads, rotating them over my fingers and examining each one in turn.

“A strange rosary,” Gemma commented. I didn’t look up, still counting Mama’s beads. “It is not your fault. Know that.”

I pressed my lips together, and swallowed. “Yes, it is.”

“It’s not. She would have passed eventually,” Gemma’s voice was harsh. “Perhaps not exactly in that manner, but it could have been worse. She may have turned in front of the boy.”

I looked up. “I thought you said I was mistaken.”

“I couldn’t say she was a fiend in front of Tidus,” Gemma picked at frayed piece of wicker on the arm of her chair. “He’s already had to deal with losing her, we don’t need to make it worse.”

I saw the sense in that. “What… what should I do?”

“Hm? You’re staying here, aren’t you? I wonder, do you have any experience with purifying a space?”

I nodded, remembering the rituals to clear residual pyreflies. Summoners were the ones to send the spirits, but sometimes monks could manage a clean up of sorts. People often said the areas where a fiend appeared felt unsettling, so we were called in to bless the land and banish any lingering pyreflies.

“Would you mind giving the bedroom a bit of a spiritual tidying up?”

“I can do that,” I nodded. “Shall I do it now?”

“Probably.”

I stood, pushing myself up with the arm of the sofa. I could feel Gemma’s eyes on me as I headed down the hallway.

The door was still ajar; I entered cautiously. Empty. The window was shut and curtained, stifling.

“Order of Yevon… Order of Yevon, rid the fallen for they are lost souls and have no peace without the embrace of Death.” I muttered, gripping Mama’s beads. Pyreflies reacted to my words, and wormed their way out of the bed. Not surprising. The bed, where she existed since her husband left, where they slept, where they-

I blushed. Ridiculous of me. I can hear Jecht laughing at me. He always thought it was strange that I showed no interest in the women that flocked around him in taverns.

“Come on, Auron! Just enjoy yourself!”

I could feel heat coming to my face every time he goaded me about it. I blamed it on the campfire, and poked at the embers with a long stick.

“There’s gotta be someone for you, man. What’s your type?”

“Please, Jecht, I don’t have a type.”

“Sure ya do!” Jecht spoke with unwavering confidence. “Every man has a type.”

I shook my head. “I don’t.” It was true. Women had never appealed to me. I preferred the solitude of Yevon, perhaps.

“You’re probably one of those guys with a wild side, I bet. Only the loosest of-“

“Jecht!” Braska interrupted, and I sighed with relief. No one was better at silencing Jecht’s depravity better than Braska. “Leave him alone.” He spoke as if he were babysitting toddlers. I imagine it must have felt like that, with our constant bickering.

Jecht relented, and we were silent, looking into the fire. I looked over the flames at Braska, who was mending my glove with practiced ease. Jecht was spinning his blitzball and kept glancing at me. He caught my eye and winked at me roguishly.

“Eyes,” I said eventually.

“Huh?” Jecht said. “You like ‘em with eyes, eh? That’s… something, I guess.”

“Blue eyes,” I clarified. My face felt redder than ever.

“Well, what do you know? Our little Auron is growing up!”

Braska smiled, and I could tell he was looking at me. Jecht moved closer to me, and put his arm around my shoulders.

“Tell me more about your perfect woman, Auron! She already sounds like a dream, with her pretty blue eyes.”

“Get off me!”

“Nope, let’s hear your deepest darkest desires, buddy!”

“I don’t have any!”

I didn’t.

That’s not entirely true.

I cleared my thoughts, and began repeating the prayers. There was a strange presence in the room.

Like Jecht. Perhaps the pyreflies were reacting to my memories. I lifted my arms, mimicking the Summoner’s movements at a Sending. The pyreflies whirled and merged, into a larger one in the centre of the room, hovering over the bed. “Order of Yevon, rid the fallen for they are lost souls and have no peace without the embrace of Death.” I said again, and reached for the pyreflies. They burst, and the feeling that Jecht was nearby was overwhelming. I whispered his name, wondering if he would reply.

“Hey, Auron,” his voice. My heart stopped, and I froze. It sounded like he was right behind me. I couldn’t turn to look. Time stopped, and I focused on my hand in the swarm of pyreflies. They were halted in midair.

“Jecht…”

“You made it. Thanks.”

“Jecht, I’m sorry!” It all rushed towards me, flashing images of the end. Braska, Jecht, his wife. All people I should have protected. “I failed you! I-”

“Nah, man. I still need you to do something.”

“Anything,” I said. “Anything you need.”

“Just… live, okay? Try to be happy.”

I was silent, wondering if these were really Jecht’s words or a complicated construction in my own mind.

“C’mon, smile.”

I couldn’t force a smile to my lips. I trembled, and felt tears rolling down my cheek.

“Ah, you’ll get it eventually.”

His presence was diminishing, and I tried to hold on to it. “Don’t leave!”

“I’ll see you around, Auron. Take care of my son.”

“I promise,” I said, with a shaky voice.

He was gone.

I stood in silence for a time with my head bowed. Tears hit the floor intermittently, and I made no attempt to stop them.

Smile. How could he expect me to do that right now?

I took a deep breath. I have to try. The air was still dusty; I glanced at the closed curtains. Sunlight speckled them, attempting entrance through the loosely woven threads.

Resolutely, I crossed to them, opened them wide, and shoved the window open. Salty fresh air oozed in like a cloud, stirring the dust motes in the air. The smell of the sea was refreshing, and the cool air chilled the tears on my face. I wiped them away.

I’ll try, Jecht.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Who was that?_

_The armour spoke._

_To this new person. The dead in the dream._

_Finally._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Gemma made no attempt to make Tidus leave his room. Perhaps she knew it would be a lost cause, like trying to get his mother to leave hers.

I had just woken up from a nap when she announced dinner. We ate silently, and she delivered a plate to Tidus’ room. I heard her speak at his door, but there was no reply.

“I have to leave for the night,” she said, as the sun was going down. “I have another meeting regarding the will.”

“Alright,” I said. “Is there anything I should do?”

“Do you know how to cook?”

I considered that, wondering if basic ration preparation counted. “Somewhat.”

Gemma smiled, and consulted the bookcase. “Here. ‘Healthy Meals for Two.’ This should illuminate some things.”

“I see,” I said, accepting the book and laying it on my lap.

“Try to sleep, but read if you can’t.” Gemma put on her coat, and slid her shoes on. “There will be a man from the city coming here tomorrow to assess the will. He’ll want to meet you.”

I wondered if my apprehension showed on my face. “Oh, uh, when?”

“2 o’clock sharp. Try to be presentable?”

“Certainly.”

“If you need anything, I’ll be next door.”

When she left, a resounding silence filled the room. This is where I will live. This is my home now. The houseboat rocked, and I steadied myself. I wondered if I would ever get used to that.

After about an hour, when the sun was completely gone, I heard Tidus’ door open and close. The slight sound of his footsteps approached, and he lingered in the doorway, watching me, just like last night.

I said nothing, waiting for him to do something. He sniffed, and scrubbed his face, and stepped into the halo of the lamp light.

“What did you do to my mom?” he asked.

I said nothing, afraid of the effect my words could have. He approached me, his little hands balled into fists. Tears shook in his eyes, and his cheeks were red.

“Did you say something mean?”

I still remained silent, finding it difficult to meet his eyes.

“Did you hurt her? Why is she gone?” Tidus’ voice was strong, but quavering with emotion.

“She… she died. Something took her away.”

“A fiend. I heard you say it. At school they say that bad people become fiends. Was my mom a bad person?” He sounded more heartbroken than angry now, and I finally met his gaze.

“No, she was just lost,” I said.

“Lost? What do you mean? You did something, didn’t you?!” Tidus was right in front of me, his voice raising. “She yelled at you! What did you do?”

“I couldn’t give her what she needed,” I said. “She wanted your father back.”

“So this is all because of him? I hate him!” Memories of Jecht surfaced, shimmering in front of my eyes as I watched Tidus rage. My friend, his enemy. He made me laugh, but made his son cry. Jecht was always smiling, laughing. Tidus hadn’t had a glimmer of a smile since I arrived.

“Don’t-“ I began.

“I’ll say whatever I want! It’s his fault she’s dead! I hate him! I hate him!” Tidus fumed, and hit my chest with a tiny fist. “I hate you! I don’t want you as my guardian!”

I lurched off of the sofa, trying to walk away from that word. I crossed the room, hugging myself and trying to retain myself. I have to keep it together. I have to--

Grass grew over the hardwood floor, yellow and green and red. Red… I could feel the wind at my back, and the stench of decaying Sinspawn. In the circle of light offered by the lamp, I could see him.

“Jecht!” I ran to him, desperate to see him. He’s still here. Braska was gone, but Jecht is still here. I knelt at his side, surveying the damage. His body was changed, warped into that frightening Aeon that destroyed Sin. A hero’s burden.

“Wake up, Jecht!” I cried, shaking his shoulders. “Wake up!”

His eyes opened, but they were milky white and strange. He made a sound, as if to say my name, and his arm spasmed towards me. I gripped his hand, and it changed between mine, becoming clawed and growing larger.

“Get… away…” he croaked, and shoved me away. His strength was tremendous, I was knocked back, nearly to where Braska disappeared.

“Jecht!” I ran forward again, halting when several Sinspawn dropped from the sky. They fell like huge raindrops, spearing into the ground.

My sword… I need my sword. There. I retrieved it, and returned to Jecht, slashing wildly at the Sinspawn. They fell at my feet, screeching. It sounded like they were all screaming my name.

A final Sinspawn dropped, a large spider shape. It descended slowly, in a controlled way. I charged forward, and slashed at it, lopping off half its legs. A loud keening noise echoed through the air, and the spider flashed bright white. Yevon’s symbol glowed bright on its back, and it… laughed.

It spoke then, with a chorus of all the Sinspawn. “You will be remembered for your arrogance. Yevon will remember you, and remind the world of your failings. You will be honoured for your failure. You survived when your Summoner defeated Sin. You should be dead. Live with your pain, Auron, the legendary _guardian_.”

The spider dropped onto Jecht’s chest. He was struggling to breathe, and his form was grotesque, roiling and shifting between his human body and the Aeon’s. With an uneven scuttling motion, the spider crawled into his mouth.

“No!” I shouted, and threw my sword. Too late. Jecht’s body shook, and the Sinspawn latched onto it, tiny teeth finding grip on anything.

Jecht’s screams were warped, the Sinspawn was joining him. I tore at them with my bare hands, trying to clear them away from his face. His arm lifted disjointedly, and rested for a moment on my shoulder.

“Auron.”

I halted, and his eyes met mine.

“Remember your promise.” Jecht’s voice throbbed in my mind; his lips didn’t move. He grabbed me easily, his hand wrapping around my whole body. He lifted me, and I couldn’t breathe, the pressure on my chest was suffocating. Pyreflies shot past me, scorching my hair and clothes and skin, and then I was still.

Jecht had set me down on the highest point of the Calm Lands, overlooking the char and broken ground.

I stood, and he ascended into the sky, his body twisting and changing in the air as the Sinspawn overwhelmed him. Pyreflies were forging armour around him, glowing with a pearly iridescence, as if he were being encased in seashells.

I fell to my knees, watching as the mass disappeared into the clouds. I was alone again. Just like when they went into that chamber with Lady Yunalesca. Just like when Braska disappeared. I needed them. I had nothing without them.

Shaking, I reached for my jug, hoping for some kind of comfort. Smashed. The clay pieces dangled at my side, held up by Mama’s beads. I wound the beads around my fingers, and they brushed against Braska’s bracelet on my left wrist. I fell forward.

I didn’t make a sound when my heart broke.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_What is he planning?_

_The armour shouldn’t be allowed to remember._

_Yevon is growing bold._

_This guardian is our best hope._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I awoke to the sound of Tidus crying beside me.

I was on the floor, my hands were digging into my face. I could feel a scratch underneath every fingernail. My muscles strained, and I straightened my fingers, relaxing as best as I could.

“I’m sorry!” Tidus sobbed. “Please don’t die!”

My voice was tangled in my throat, but I tried to speak. “Ti-“

“I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry!” He grabbed my hand. “Don’t die, please!”

I gripped his hand, and he looked at me. His face was patchily red, and tears were flowing freely. He looked like Jecht, how his face changed at the end.

No. I have to stay here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“You were scary, what’s wrong with you?”

“I saw some terrible things,” I said, easing myself into a sitting position. I was near the hallway to Tidus’ mother’s bedroom, and I could see that the lamp had been knocked over, as well as the kitchen table. The blue pitcher had smashed into pieces, and there was water on the floor. My sword was sticking out of the floor beside the window. My sword. I turned to Tidus, probably frightening him with my abruptness. “Are you hurt? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Panic edged into my voice, and he shook his head quickly.

“No, I got out of the way. You were scary.”

Shame blazed across my face, and I dropped my head in my hands.

“Are you okay? Don’t go away again, okay?”

I shook my head, and wiped my face, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m sorry.”

Tidus fidgeted, and then stood up. “I’m tired.”

“I am too,” I said, and got to my feet, using the wall as support.

“Gemma says its good to read before bed…” Tidus said. “Will you read me something?”

I didn’t turn around, still leaning against the wall. The dark hallway was comforting in its emptiness.

“I could read you something. You know, if you want.”

At that, I smiled a bit, and turned to him. He gave me a watery smile, and he held out his hand. I took it, and, avoiding the mess I was going to regret leaving, returned to the living room. We settled into our somewhat familiar position on the sofa, and I grabbed the nearest book on the coffee table.

“That’s a cookbook! That’s not interesting!”

“Get a different one, if you want.”

“I’m already comfortable.”

“Don’t complain then,” I said, opening to the first recipe. “Chicken, with rice and vegetables.”

“Boring,” he said, flipping a few pages. “Beef with brown sauce and potatoes! This looks way better.”

We read down the list of ingredients, and he affirmed or denied their inclusion.

“I don’t like green peppers, they stink.”

“I don’t like them either,” I said, to his approval.

We flipped through nearly half the book, commenting on the pictures and which ones we would like to try. We stuck a few bookmarks in on recipes we both liked.

It was unusual. It felt so ordinary. After the tumult of the evening, the yelling and crying. Now we’re here, and he’s happy. The adaptability of children mystified me.

I found myself drifting off, the book lolling in my loose grip.

“Auron, hold the book up!”

“…”

“Auron, are you asleep?”

“Not yet…”

“Go ahead and fall asleep, I’ll protect you.”

“Alright.”


	4. Awaken

Featuring this [drawing](http://kingcael.tumblr.com/post/134932626245/auron-were-you-having-a-nightmare-no-yes). 

 

**Awaken**

My morning started slowly, daylight sliding over my eye. I looked at the wooden planks of the ceiling, all too aware of the side of my nose. I keep trying to open my other eyelid. I wonder if it is opening, but the eye behind it is useless.

It must be disgusting to look at.

I could hear music. Something strange, not a hymn. I had heard something like this once before, in the temple’s deepest depths. Someone had discovered a false wall, and found machina relics behind it. There was a sphere that played the strangest music. A buzzing noise, and lyrics that were fast and about a summer day. Unusual. It had been destroyed.

It’s not the same song, but it sounds similar. I turned over, doing my best to focus on the room. Tidus was in Gemma’s chair, with his legs draped over the arm of it. He was reading a book. I squinted, and could make out a blitzball on the front cover.

“Hey, good morning,” he said, crunching a sweet biscuit. There were crumbs on his face and biscuit wrappers littered about the floor around the chair.

“Yes… what time is it?”

He looked up at a circular timekeeper on the wall. “One… um… one-and a quarter.”

I nodded. “I have forty-five minutes then?”

“Until what?”

“A man is coming to see us today. About your mother.”

Tidus stiffened, and buried his nose in his book. “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

I remained silent, and stood, stretching. I counted my breaths, remembering how we would calculate minutes by our breaths. There was an hourglass we studied until we were masters of our time.

My fingertips bent against the ceiling. Low ceilings. Strange, I was still used to the vaulted temple ceilings. Even after all that time travelling with Braska and Jecht. Even several months of living in a tent couldn’t change me.

I took a deep breath, holding it in my chest. I began a prayer and stopped myself. This isn’t a land of prayer. I settled for an awkward bow in Tidus’ direction. I imagine that earned a confused look, but I turned on my heel and entered the kitchen.

It was equipped with some things I recognised. The wash basin and stove looked a bit more mechanical than I was accustomed to. There was a tall cabinet with sealed doors. I opened it, and it was cold inside. Strange. The stove had knobs, and odd discs where the fire should have been. There wasn’t any indication it had been used recently, at least not with a proper fire. But Gemma had cooked somehow…

I approached the wash basin, which had a hole in the bottom. That seemed illogical. There were knobs like the shower had, and I twisted one. Water! I splashed some against my face, pleasantly surprised when the water was warm instead of cold. The water swirled in the basin and fell through the hole. Drainage. Sensible. Nodding at the marvels of Zanarkand, I scrubbed my face, picking the dried blood from my cheek. The scar across my eye stung and watered as my fingers passed over it. Sticky bandages still held it together. I took care not to remove them.

I sighed, and plunged my hands into the flowing water again. It was scalding hot, and I flinched away, shaking the heat off my hands.

“What are you doing?” Tidus was behind me, looking up at me with a mixture of confusion and amusement.

“It’s hot,” I said, a feeble explanation.

“Yeah, that’s the hot tap. Cold comes out the other one.”

“I see.”

“Are you sure you’re not dumb?”

“I’m not,” I frowned, and twisted the knob closed. I made to turn around, and bashed my thigh into the handle on the front of the stove. I didn’t even see it.

What use will I be like this? Half my sight, half my ability has been robbed from me.

“You sure are acting dumb,” Tidus smirked. His blue eyes sparkled, and he looked like he was about to laugh.

“That’s unkind,” I said flatly.

His expression changed suddenly, as if I had slapped him. I wished I hadn’t said anything. He had looked happy for a moment.

Tidus looked down and away. “There’s still glass on the floor.” He shuffled away, taking a wide path around the broken pitcher. He was almost at the hallway when he stopped. “SorryIknowyou’renotdumb!” He ran into his bedroom, and closed the door.

It took me a moment to translate what he said.

After I righted the table and chairs, I found a broom and dustpan in the nearby closet, and made clumsy slow work of cleaning the glass.

Thirty-five minutes left. Enough time to present myself properly. Gemma will be impressed.

I paused outside Jecht’s bedroom door, willing myself through. I still felt like a trespasser, despite the non-threatening cleanliness of the space. The room had been purified, but I was aware of my intrusion.

It took me a few minutes to find some suitable clean clothing. As much as I wanted to continue wearing my robe, I did feel I should make an effort to look as Zanarkandian as possible.

Jecht’s clothes were either too tight, or too loose. There really wasn’t a comfortable middle. I opted for too-tight pants, and too-loose shirt. The pants were a bit too short as well, showing off a bit of ankle. So much for a presentable look. In the mirror, I looked strange. Foreign. The clothes were comfortable, but unusual. No Yevonite adornments, perfectly sewn seams. This is what they wear, I have to be part of them. I did still keep Mama’s beads wound around my wrist.

My hair was a knotted tangle, and I braided it back. That only made the stubble darkening my face more obvious, and I scraped my fingers over the growth.

Twenty minutes left. Enough for a careful shave. My dexterity is not what it once was.

I had figured out the knobs in the bathroom, and also found some shaving gear. It felt odd to be using Jecht’s things. I had lent him numerous items over our journey; hairbrush, soap, new socks, the list went on and on. But still, I feel like a thief, standing in his house, using his clothes and supplies.

Part of me wonders if he’ll disappear completely if I use up his things.

There was a strange shaped instrument with many small razors, and a more recognizable straight razor. I opted for the latter, and began a careful shave.

I was half finished when I heard the knock at the door. What? I have ten minutes left. Another knock, and then I heard Gemma’s voice, calling my name.

I glanced at my harried reflection, meeting my half gaze, then hastily grabbed a towel, scrubbing the soap off the right side of my face. A stinging pain lanced across my face, and drops of blood coloured the towel.

“Are you here?” Gemma pushed the ajar door open further, and stopped in the doorway, a mixture of concern and amusement playing across her face. “2 o clock sharp, sweetie. Did you lose track of time?”

“No!” I mentally went over the minutes that had passed. “I thought I had an additional ten minutes.”

“I’ll tell him you’ll be right out.”

“I’m sorry.”

She waved away my apology, and chortled a bit. “You look better than Jecht usually did, at any rate.”

I splashed some water over my face, and hurried after her, slamming my shoulder into the doorframe as I left. The collision spun me a bit, and I also stumbled into the wall opposite the door. I hoped they couldn’t hear that.

“-a scholar. Certainly appropriate. And he’s Jecht’s oldest friend.” Gemma spoke authoritatively.

Tentatively, I ventured into the main area, and kept my head bowed. It was custom to not make eye contact with those above your station until they addressed you directly. I still felt the weight of the teachings pushing my head down into a bow.

“Hello, Auron, is it?” The man was tall, his knees jutted out far from his seated position.

“Yes, sir,” I looked up, and he considered me kindly. His hair was bright red, and his garments were strangely cut, made of a rich brown fabric.

“Gemma has informed me that you wish to become Tidus’ guar—“

“Caretaker,” Gemma interrupted. “He will be an excellent caretaker.”

“Y-yes,” the man said. He clearly held a high respect for Gemma, and deferred instantly. “Caretaker. I’m here to get all the legal affairs in order.”

“I see,” I remained in the supplicant position, hoping he wasn’t staring at my scar. I could feel heat rising in my cheeks, and shifted my weight from foot to foot. That word… I can feel my heart pounding… I’m pathetic… Stupid…

“For goodness sake, Auron, sit down,” Gemma said, and tugged my sleeve. I obliged instantly, and sat down with more force than necessary.

At the table, I felt more like an equal, and relaxed a bit. Gemma wasn’t smoking, but she held a pen like her pipe.

“There’s the matter of the inheritance to discuss,” the man said. “My name is Fyrian, by the way.” He spoke in a business-like fashion, but also was quite amiable, with a face that looked like it was accustomed to winking.

“Jecht left behind a sizable fortune, which is now willed to you and Tidus,” Gemma said, tapping her chin with the pen. “If you accept the responsibility of becoming his caretaker, that is.”

“I have all the documentation here,” Fyrian said, spreading his papers over the table. “Gemma has sorted most of this out, of course, as you’ve been getting adjusted. She tells me you’re from the outskirts of the city?” He looked directly at me, his gaze didn’t wander to my scar.

“Yes, I’ve known Jecht for a… long time,” I said. Speaking his name reminded me of all the times I yelled it, or gasped it through a hearty laugh. I remember...

“Hey, Auron, I got a question for you.” Jecht was still awake? His lamp was burning low, but seemed bright to me. Yellow light shivered on the tent roof. I was just drifting to sleep when he spoke.

I rolled over on my bedroll, rubbing my eyes, and raised my eyebrows as a response.

“You ticklish?”

“I beg your pardon?” I yawned. “It’s too late for nonsense, Jecht.”

“It’s a serious question,” he said, not sounding serious in the least.

“…No,” I answered, but my hesitation gave away the truth. When I was young, my siblings and the neighbourhood children were all too aware of my ticklish spots. When I tried to be in charge, or reprimand them for misbehaving, they could easily destroy my aloofness.

A mischievous grin split his face, his toothy smile glinting in the lamp light. He raised his hands, creeping towards me.

“No, Jecht,” I rolled back over, hoping that ignoring him would make him go away. I should have known that presenting a weak spot to the enemy would cost me.

His fingers jabbed into my sides, scrabbling madly over the thin nightshirt I was wearing.

“Ahhh! Stop that!” I cried, arching my back away and swatting him away. This only spurred him on, and he tickled without mercy, laughing like a Skoll.

I was laughing too, uncontrollably. Embarrassing throaty laughter. “Stop it! Enough! Ah! Ahaha! Dammit, Jecht!” I aimed my pillow at him, which he easily dodged.

“Cursing me? You’re shameful, monk!” He bellowed playfully, and launched another attack at my armpits.

“Aaargh, no!” I clamped my arms to my sides, and tried to scramble away from him, completely disregarding who happened to be lying beside me.

I imagine Braska was startled by nearly my full weight landing on top of him.

“—so I just need you to sign at the bottom here, and we will be all finished.”

I snapped back to attention, shaking the memory from my mind.

Gemma’s hand was on my wrist, and she tapped it twice, further grounding me. “Your name, sweetheart.”

“Oh, yes…” I took Gemma’s pen, holding it awkwardly in my right hand. I had seen a few pens like this in Bevelle. The Maesters were allowed to use them, but they were rare. A luxury item.

I could see my name printed at the bottom of the paper, followed by another name. A very familiar name.

Domani.

Mama’s name.

The pen tip pressed into the paper, and was leaving a gradually spreading ink spot.

“Your signature, if you please.” Fyrian was clipping some papers together, and seemed unfazed by my demeanour.

I looked at Gemma, and she blinked slowly, calming me.

My hand shook over the words, but I signed my name, and then Mama’s.

“An unusual family name, you really must be from the outskirts!” Fyrian took the paper, and put it in an envelope. “Thank you for your time.” He held his hand out to me, and I shook it. “I’ll be in touch, making sure you’re getting sorted out properly.”

He left, and his footsteps were incredibly loud. He reminded me of Jecht, with those heavy footfalls.

When he was gone, Gemma went to her chair and pulled out her pipe. “I didn’t mean to surprise you with that name,” she said, smoke curling around her.

“Mama’s name,” I said softly, twisting the beads around my wrist.

“Yes, I know.”

“How do—“

At that moment, Tidus opened his door, and stomped into the living room. “I heard you all talking about Mom. She’s gone, right?” I saw that his face was red, and he stepped closer to me. “Don’t talk about her anymore.” He was defiant, daring me to disagree.

I nodded, and held Mama’s beads to my chest. Strange. I want my Mama, and he doesn’t even want to talk about his. I wonder which of us is stronger.

We decided to go for a walk. Tidus wanted to show me his favourite spot.

Tidus brought his blitzball, and insisted on kicking it along as we walked down the pier. Gemma left us at her dock, and disappeared into a similar, yet slightly smaller houseboat.

We walked until my bones ached and begged for rest. Tidus seemed to notice my laboured breaths, and tucked the ball under his arm and fell into step beside me. “You’re tired already?” he asked. “You’re like an old man.”

I pressed my lips together, and repeated what I had said earlier. “That’s unkind.”

His reaction was much the same as before as well, except this time he ran off without a word. I followed his progress, watching his head bobbing up and down as he ran to the end of the pier. His silhouette in the distance was the same as the first day I arrived here.

A surge of guilt gripped my heart. There should be another silhouette with him.

It was my fault, as much as Gemma says it’s not. My fault.

Just like what happened to Jecht and Braska… I should have been stronger, more defiant, more insistent. I should have grabbed them both and ran from that Zanarkand… from that woman. A twinge of pain ran down my right side, and I shuddered. She was beautiful and terrible. A demon wearing a goddess’ face.

Her voice thrummed in my mind, and I winced, leaning against a pier for support.

_“Death is the ultimate and final liberation.”_ That’s what she had said. Her script. The words she laboured on for a thousand years, to spit them at us like venom. The afternoon sunlight was at odds with the dark thoughts in my mind. I tried to shake them off, tried to think of anything else.

Anything… I looked to the end of the pier, and Tidus wasn’t alone anymore. A few other children had joined him, and appeared to be teasing him.

I frowned, and stomped towards them, my quickening steps awkward with a limp.

“I don’t know, stop asking!” Tidus said, wiping his nose. The other children, two girls and a boy, didn’t relent, and were crowding around him.

“We saw a scary man in red! Maybe it was him!” The shorter girl cried, her blonde hair bouncing.

“It probably was, Tidus!” The boy nodded vigorously.

The taller girl noticed me as I ambled towards them, and let out a little squeal of alarm. The other two children whipped around, and screamed.

My cheeks reddened, and I squinted at Tidus. “Are you all right?” I asked.

The children that screamed ran away, but the taller girl remained, staring unabashedly at me.

“You are scary,” she said, holding her hands to her mouth.

I frowned, which I imagine didn’t reassure her. Tidus frowned too, and turned on his heel, clumping down the steps to the beach below.

The girl kept staring, her eyes locked on the right side of my face.

I followed Tidus down the stairs, leaning heavily on the handrail. He was standing in the gentle waves, with his feet semi-buried in sand and the water frothing around his ankles.

“Tidus!” The girl leaned over the railing. “Who is this guy?”

“Go away, Aria!” Tidus yelled, stomping one foot in the water.

“Should I get my mom?”

“No! Just go away!”

Aria left, after looking fearfully at me again. I hoped she wasn’t going to get her mother. That would complicate my day.

I joined Tidus on the beach. There were a few people sunning on the sand, but were far out of earshot.

“Tidus…” I began.

“You think I’m mean.”

“What? No, I don’t.”

“You keep calling me unkind. I know what that means. You think I’m mean.”

“Your words were unkind. Not you.”

He was silent, considering that.

I said nothing as well, and looked out to the sea. A breeze picked up, and ruffled our hair and clothes.

“Some kids at school say I’m mean. I… I don’t want to be mean.”

“I don’t think you’re mean,” I said. My right leg twinged with pain, and I carefully sat down. The sand was warm, like the sand in Besaid.

Besaid… that’s where I should have gone. Not back to Zanarkand. That was my mistake. I wondered if Kimahri Ronso had done as I asked.

I wonder if Braska would forgive me for not taking his Yuna to Besaid directly.

I didn’t take her. But why not? I can’t remember. There was a reason. I had to ask Kimahri Ronso because…?

I hugged my knees, and rested my forehead on them. The sun was warm on the top of my head. It was a familiar sensation. If I concentrated, I could pretend I was in Besaid with Jecht and Braska, enjoying the sun for an entire week before the boat from Kilika returned. It was like a vacation.

Braska had smiled then. A proper smile. Crooked teeth and crinkly lines around his eyes. I was so taken aback that I couldn’t reply in kind. Jecht laughed, and wrapped his arm around Braska. He was much better at showing affection than I would ever be.

“Why are you so sad, Auron?”

I looked up, and Tidus was standing in front of me. He was holding the blitzball in front of him. I could see Jecht’s name, scrawled in faded ink on the underside of it.

“You always look like you’re about to cry,” he continued. “My dad said he hated people like that.”

I looked past Tidus, to the sea, recalling all the times I’d seen Jecht teary-eyed. No wonder he hated people like that. They reminded him of himself.

“I’m just remembering things,” I said.

“What things?”

How do I explain anything to him? This Zanarkand has known only peace. He wouldn’t understand. “Bad things.”

“Like nightmares?”

It seemed he might have some idea. “Just like that.”

“Except your nightmares actually happened?”

I nodded.

“Well, you’re awake now, and you’re here. I don’t get why you’re still sad.”

“I can’t forget the way it felt,” I said.

“I had a dream like that once,” Tidus plopped down in the sand on my right side, and rolled the blitzball around absent-mindedly. I turned my head to look at him. “I couldn’t sleep, and I went to mom and dad’s room. They sent me back to my room.”

“I see.”

“I did go back to sleep though. So you’ll be fine too.”

I wondered.

We stayed at the beach until my strength returned. I tossed Tidus the blitzball a few times, and he swam in the shallow waters. Fortunately, the girl Aria seemed to respect Tidus’ wishes, and didn’t come back.

We went to bed before the sun was down.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_They won’t accept him._

_He’s too different._

_Why did you let him in?_

_He’s going to save us._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

A cold, dark plain. The Calm Lands. Night. I crawled over the grassy slopes, back over the pitted lumps, the grass stained red with Braska’s blood. Fiends were following me, I could hear their breath. I couldn’t stop. I had to return to Bevelle.

I gritted my teeth, and crawled forward. The bandages they applied at the Travel Agency were dirty and useless now. I could feel something stabbing into my lungs with every movement. My left arm dragged uselessly behind me, my fingers broken and bent in the mud. The right side of my face was swollen and ugly, bloody and thick with pain. I could see the halo of Bevelle, glimmering in the dark.

“You failed me, Auron.” Braska’s voice. Full of rage and regret. He should never have trusted me. I was too afraid. Too weak.

“My Lord…!” My heart thumped, and my voice was small. I halted, and pushed myself up with my good arm.

“I am not your Lord, Auron. You failed.” Braska was before me suddenly. His nose was bleeding. He grabbed my hair, and pulled me up to him. His eyes were fierce, blazing. “It’s your fault.” Pyreflies began to swarm around him, dissolving him.

“My Lord!” I gasped, reaching for him. “My… Braska, please.” I could feel the tears boiling behind my eyes. He drew closer, almost holding me in an embrace. “Braska, forgive me…!” I cried, and the tears tumbled down my face.

His breath was hot and hissing beside my ear. I leaned into him, praying for words of forgiveness and love. “You were a failure of a guardian.”

Braska dropped me, and I landed heavily on the ground. I gasped, my eye opened wide. This can't be real. This isn't what happened. 

“A failure,” said another voice. Jecht. “Couldn’t even do the one thing he asked. You’re just a waste.”

My memories clashed with their voices. They wouldn’t, they wouldn’t say such things.

I had walked up the mountain, and crawled down the other side. I did everything I could for my friends. I was stupid, and useless, and even though I did what I thought was my best, it wasn’t enough.

I did fail. Everything they said was true. My heart beat once more, and stopped.

Was this Death? Death, like Yunalesca said, the final liberation? Would I be free?

Could I?

I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it. _I don’t deserve it._

I opened my eyes once more, and they were standing in front of me. I kissed the hem of Braska’s robes, and rested my head against his feet.

“You don’t get to die yet. You don’t get to be free.” The voice wasn’t either of them. It was a thought, more than a voice.

I cried, clutching Braska’s robes, but not daring to look up. His eyes would be too blue. Too beautiful. I didn’t deserve to look at him.

My heart was silent.

Someone touched my shoulder. A small hand.

“Wake up!” A young voice. Tidus.

I sat up, peeling my back from the sheets. My pulse was fast, and I could hear it rushing in my ears. There was a murmuring low noise, a voice muttering apologies. I could still feel Braska’s robes in my fists. Blinking, I focused on the room I was in. Gentle sloshing of water against the side of the houseboat. The ticking timepiece. My hands were curled around Tidus’ shirt, and I released him stiffly, my knuckles cracking.

The low sound ceased suddenly, and I realised it was me.

“Auron, were you having a nightmare?” Tidus’ voice was quiet, but shaky.

“No…” I started, and remembered my vow of honesty. “Yes. I’m sorry for waking you. Go back to bed.” I rubbed my face, trying to discreetly wipe away the tears.

He didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

Without another word, he hugged me tightly, burying his face in the side of my neck. His lean strength pulled me back together.

This must be what he wanted when he had a nightmare. Someone to be there, to hold him, and reassure him. Jecht was so easygoing, so friendly and caring. Why wasn’t he that way with his only son? I didn’t understand.

I could feel another quiet sob rising in my chest, and stifled it, hiding my face. Tidus held tighter, and I allowed myself the weakness.

He remained silent, but didn’t let me go.

I don’t remember falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Tidus thought one and a quarter was 1:25. So Auron was out ten minutes. Ten points if you can tell me the book that happened in, lolol))


	5. Peace

 

 

**Peace**

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He’s going to remember._

_What are we going to do if he disappears?_

_What if he destroys our dream?_

_He is here to bring the dawn!_

_o-o-o-o-o-o_

I had to find peace. Why wasn’t I permitted to feel safe?

He held me, somehow. He contained the turmoil, the writhing sobbing pain that scratched its way out of my chest. His little hands gripped my shoulders, and held my head, and remained rigid. There was a conviction in them that held fast.

Time passed, and he was the same.

Not exactly the same.

His eyes were red the next morning.

I awoke slowly, drifting in and out of a disjointed dream. Colours played in my vision, something tore my world apart and replaced it with red and blue and orange.

I saw Tidus kneeling beside me. The image of him was insubstantial.

The feeling of grass tickling my cheek made me turn, the sky was bright, and I looked at it with two eyes. I touched my face, and there was no scar. I’m fixed, new, whole.

Slowly, I sat up, running my fingertips over the cool fresh grass. I was sitting in a field, looking over a cliffside, perhaps. The sound of waterfalls nearby soothed me. Purple flowers of all shapes and sizes surrounded me, fragrant.

My robe draped loosely around my shoulders, and my hair hung loose. The slightest breeze played with my dark hair as it went past. I pulled it back, tying it with a bit of ribbon I found in my pocket. Another smell fell on the wind. Spices, the scent of a perfect cup of tea.

Braska.

I got to my feet with such haste that I nearly fell down again. Briefly, I pitied the flowers I destroyed, but looked around wildly for the source of the smell. I was certain, so certain.

Pyreflies meandered around the waterfall closest to me, and I cautiously approached it. The water shimmered and shook with the light of the pyreflies, a beautiful light show in this flowered land.

“Braska…” I whispered, hoping my soft voice wouldn’t shatter the dream.

I felt a presence behind me. I squeezed my eyes shut, offering silent prayers that it wouldn’t disappear.

So close. The presence is directly behind me now. I dared not look around for fear it- he would be whisked away.

“Auron.” Braska’s voice.

I held my breath, my hands trembling at my sides.

Gentle hands rested on my shoulders, and I felt his forehead press between my shoulders. “I’m surprised to see you here.” His voice thrummed through me, vibrating from where his head rested against my back. “But I do not blame you.”

“M-my Lord,” I said. He didn’t disappear. I spun around, and grabbed him in a fierce embrace. “My Lord!”

He chuckled momentarily, before I took his breath with the tightness of my hug. “Ah, Auron. I must speak to you.”

I drew back, and stared at him hungrily, still gripping his shoulders. His presence, his spirit, everything about him was real. There was no illusion here. He looked just as he did when we travelled together, though perhaps less tired. His blue eyes were astonishingly clear. The journey’s burden had left him.

“My friend,” he said, placing his hands over mine. “I am so sorry.”

“No, my Lord,” I said, shaking my head. “I must apologise. I failed you--“

“No, Auron. It is I who failed. I followed a flawed cycle, with a false hope, and a wish that things would be different, with no certainty, nor any influence to make it so.” Braska looked down, and his grip on my hands tightened. “I was so tired.”

“My Lord, I could have—“

“You were right, Auron. We shouldn’t have gone. I should have stayed in Bevelle. We should have just lived. I could have been a good father. What am I now? Useless! A memory won’t comfort Yuna!” Braska’s voice broke, and he crashed into me, hiding his face. “My memory is what makes you suffer!”

“I want you to stay with me, my Lord. My memories of our journey bring me pain, but also peace.”

“I am sorry, Auron. Because of me, you…” he shuddered, and his hands clenched on my robe. “You shouldn’t have died.”

“Died…? My Lord… I didn’t…” I stopped, recalling those memories. The nightmare. Was it…? My heart stopped, but wasn’t that a dream? The dream must end. That’s what she said. One last prayer. One last dream.

One last heartbeat.

I died.

I’m dead.

I’m _dead_.

I heard Braska’s voice, drowned out by the sound of the waterfalls. “Auron, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

The purple flowers turned red. My fingers broke under his touch, and my eye blinked against a blade. The ground crackled up my legs, and I fell in a shattered heap. My left arm snapped, bending impossibly. The flowers crowded around me, trying to lessen my ugliness. They clamoured for attention, touching my face, whispering sweetness and catching my blood.

I remembered what it felt like when my heart broke.

I remembered what it felt like when my heart stopped.

I’m dead. _Dead._

Braska’s hands never left me, nor did his voice, reduced as it was to my name and apologies. “Auron… you can’t stay.”

I’m no good to anyone. Dead.

I failed every duty, forgotten every promise. Dead.

There’s nothing left of me. My body is a lie. A construct. My mind created it. Make believe. Every creaking joint, every blistering scab, every blinding pain. A lie.

“Keep it together, man!” Jecht’s voice. “You still have some promises to keep!”

I can’t, I thought. I’m dead. Useless. Dead. Failure.

“If that’s what you wanna be then fine! I thought you were better than that!” Jecht’s voice was harsh now. “If you say it’s sunset, then go on. But I reckon you’ve got a few more hours! Now get back up and fix this! Braska and I messed it up, now it’s up to you. All that crap about Yevon, and all those people that spit on us, and gave you that scar, are you just gonna let them keep doing that?”

I’m not good. I watched you die. I didn’t do anything. I deserve this.

“Bullshit! Get on your feet! We’re counting on you!”

My feet. There. Ground. There.

Walk.

Keep going.

Walk.

You promised.

Walk.

Wake up.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_It’s over._

_He’s defeated._

_I don’t want to look at him._

_He’s stronger than all of you! Silence!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

A song. The long drawn out notes of the Hymn of the Dawn. The monks taking vigil would wake the temple with this song.

I wondered what the day would bring. Kinoc was probably already awake. He liked to awaken before the hall was full, to get the seat by the east window. The sun would shine on his thin hair, and made his balding head glow as if he were wearing a halo. The oatmeal he always managed to dribble down his chin often sullied the effect.

I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and tossed my blanket off of me. When my feet touched the floor, I opened my eyes- only one. This wasn’t my barracks. The Hymn was quiet, one voice. I can only see out of one eye.

Oh.

My body shook, and I could see a glow from below. Pyreflies. My hands, legs, everything. Trembling, I squeezed my hands together, lacing my fingers together in an attempt to stay together.

“You’re strong.”

I tried to speak, but pyreflies burnt my lips.

“You have to live.”

I inhaled the escaped pyreflies, holding them deep inside until they stilled. “I have to live,” I said, coloured lights spilling from my mouth like smoke.

“Remember your promises.”

“My promises,” I repeated.

“Remember your name.”

I thought. My name was formless, something lost in the air. A sound and the meaning of a prayer. A well wish for a meaningful life. Give me something to be.

“ _Herald of the dawn._ ”

Mama? Her voice. I heard it. Does that mean…

“Your name!”

Different. I blinked, and pyreflies swam in front of my vision, and curled up behind my eyes. They burned, but also they were me. My being was pain. My hands weren’t attached to my arms, but still held each other tightly.

“You have to say it.”

My voice was fluttering in front of me, twinkling bright red and blue. I snapped at it, gnashing it between broken teeth. Chewed and swallowed, it sat resignedly in my throat. “My name is Auron.”

At once, everything stopped. The swirling pyreflies solidified, and I stood, completely whole.

Not completely. I could still feel the scar, the winding wounds. The pyreflies could have forgotten them, couldn’t they? Couldn’t I? The room was dark, with only the lights from the pier casting dim light across the floor. I could hear the uneven thrash of heavy rain overhead.

“Welcome back,” Gemma was beside me. Had she been there the whole time? “You scared us.”

I looked at her, and she had the same expression as ever, clever amusement. “Ma- Gemma. I’m…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” She touched my elbow, guiding me as I sat down. “I had hoped you would have a few more days of peace before you remembered.”

“You knew?” I wasn’t sure if I should feel betrayed.

“Yes. I meant to tell you but I…” she paused, and I could tell she was trying to find the words. “I saw you smile, and I didn’t want it to go away so soon.” As she spoke, she avoided my gaze, tracing her lips with her fingers.

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the air felt hostile. “Am I allowed to be here?” I asked quietly.

“Allowed?” She turned to me, frowning slightly. “Of course! We’ve been waiting for you and-“ Gemma sighed roughly, and pulled out her pipe. She lit it, and puffed a few breaths. “I give you permission. Do not heed anyone that makes you feel unwelcome.”

“Gemma.” I laced my fingers together, marvelling how real it felt. Pyreflies, they were truly marvellous beings. “I must ask you…”

“How I knew your Mama’s name, yes?”

“Yes.”

“I know you, Auron,” Gemma’s face was hidden in shadow, but the embers in her pipe glowed intermittently. “I met you once before.”

“I- I don’t remember.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

I pressed my knuckles to my forehead. “Gemma. Please be direct.”

“I’m tired.”

“Tired?”

“Tired of the dream. I want you to end it for me.”

I was silent, unsure of what that meant.

“Do you remember climbing back over Mount Gagazet?”

“…yes.”

“That’s where we met.”

“I don’t…”

“You collapsed near the summit. Near the fayth.”

I nodded, remembering how the fayth seemed warmer than the surrounding air, despite being made of stone. I rested against the wall, gingerly pulling my shattered left arm into my lap. There were still days of travel. Fiends were sparse, they must have been banished when Braska defeated Sin.

I leaned my head back, jumping slightly when I realised I was back to back with a woman’s fayth. She didn’t move. Of course she didn’t. Her back was warm, almost like a real person.

Sleep tugged me down, and my dreams were vivid that night. I laughed with Jecht, and held Braska as he died. I lived in the temple, and helped Mama feed the chickens. I saw Zanarkand, I met the Lady Yunalesca and heard her depraved rituals. I prayed, and bowed, and trained for Yevon. I was devout, until the mark of the dishonoured burned on my wrist.

My skin sizzled, and the sick char of burnt flesh made the air reek. The pain was unbearable, and I attempted to wrench my arm away. The acolytes kept me still, and the Dismisser pressed harder for my struggle. Surely the brand would melt through my entire arm. There was hate in his movements. My senses dulled, one by one.

Yevon, I’m sorry. I failed you, I will atone. I will give my life for my summoner. Praise be, praise be to Yevon.

Someone was angry. I could feel it. These feelings weren’t mine, but they blazed in my chest. A fierce, pure rage. My fingers curled into a fist, and the memory changed. Before, I had fallen to my knees, and the acolytes dragged me from the Via Purifico. I saw the Dismisser remove his mask, and—

This time, I fought. I lunged forward, and punched the Dismisser so hard his mask flew off. He fell to the ground and I was on top of him in moments, punching him over and over. I felt like a spectator, watching something else control my body.

“Curse you, Yevon!” I heard my voice say. “I hate you!” The ugly spider from the Calm Lands appeared, and I stepped on it, over and over until it was a pulpy mess.

My dream continued, and I was laughing. Jecht was waist-deep in mud, and Braska was worse off, but laughing fit to burst. My friends.

Another voice laughed, and I turned, and Mama was there, wearing her favourite beads. “Oh, Auron. You’ve really grown.”

“Mama…”

I hugged her, and she cradled my head, as if I were still a little boy. I was happy.

It felt like I had lived my whole life in that dream.

When I awoke the next morning, the fayth I had rested against had moved slightly. Almost as if she were trying to pull out of the wall.

“You remember?” Gemma asked. “The fayth remember you.”

“I don’t understand,” I said slowly, as the images converged in my mind. A crack of thunder made me jump.

“I didn’t know what the rest of Spira was,” Gemma said. “I saw it then. In your memories.”

“The fayth.” I looked at her silhouette, and she nodded. “You’re one of the Gagazet fayth.”

“Yes.”

“And Tidus, is he—“

“No. He’s a dream. As real as you or Jecht.” Gemma exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Real as pyreflies.”

“A dream. What does that mean?”

“This land, this city is a dream. We exist, and yet…”

“How did I get here?”

“Your charming friend Jecht brought you. I felt his presence when you arrived.”

I considered that, and recalled the journey. The sea and the sun were bold and bright, fresh with vitality that reminded me of Jecht. I clung to the pearly scales of Sin’s back, and whispered Jecht’s name over and over. A city in the distance, a new Zanarkand. It sparkled on the horizon, buildings nearly scraping the sky.

_He’s there, Auron. My son. Don’t forget your promise._

I tumbled from Sin’s back, and landed unexpectedly on dry land. A sandy beach, it was nearly sunset.

_You know where to go. Remember what I said?_

“From the best beach, up the south dock, count to seven, and that’s where the luckiest man in Zanarkand lives.”

_Right on, man._

“Will you stay? Even knowing what you are?” Gemma asked. “Will you still be Tidus’ guar- caretaker?”

“Y-yes,” I said.

“You’re brave, Auron.”

I shivered, and Gemma took notice. With quick decisive movements, despite the shadowy room, she retrieved a blanket and draped it around my shoulders.

“Try to sleep. Try to dream of something happy.”

“Why are you here, if you’re one of the fayth? Are there more of you?”

“There is no other like me.” Gemma’s voice was clipped, and I could tell she wasn’t interested in explaining.

“What?”

“Another time,” she gently pushed me down, and cleared the hair from my face, resting her hands on the sides. “Don’t forget to wake up.”

I nodded, already feeling sleep creeping over me. My pyreflies vibrated and settled, spiralling within me and becoming still.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_We told you._

_Why won’t you listen?_

_Go back to sleep._

_I will not!!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Tidus was energetic, like a miniature sunshine that bounded around the room. “I’m bored, Auron! Let’s do something!”

“What would you like to do?” I asked. For the past hour or so, I had been reading the historical texts on Zanarkand, not turning up anything groundbreaking.

“Anything other than reading stupid books all day!”

His verve was uncontainable. He had already destroyed a potted plant with blitzball practice. “Let’s go outside, or downtown for snacks, or _anything_!”

Getting to know the area would be advisable, I thought. Gemma hadn’t returned since she left during last night’s storm.

I did say I would be a good caretaker. Even I’m uncomfortable with the other word. Knowing that I could just fall apart if I succumbed to my memories was almost as disconcerting as the memories themselves.

“I should clean up if we are going out.”

“Ohhh, you look fine!” Tidus said, and peered at me. “Okay, no you don’t.”

I tsked, and heaved myself off the sofa, scratching the stubble on my chin.

“Don’t take too long, okay?” Tidus began bouncing the blitzball, taking care around the plants.

“I’ll be ten minutes.”

“I’ll count!”

It took me six minutes to shower and three to be half done shaving. Tidus rapped on the door, and walked in without waiting for a response.

“It hasn’t been ten minutes yet,” I said, shaving upwards on my neck.

“Close enough!” He waved his hand, and stared at me in the mirror. “Shaving looks like a pain.”

“I don’t particularly care for it,” I said, rinsing the razor.

“Then don’t do it. I heard my teacher saying she likes a ‘rugged man’. Rugged means you have a beard, right? Like there’s a rug on your face?”

“More or less?” I splashed water on my face, and dried off. True, I did look more like myself after shaving, except… The scar.

It was still deep and ugly, though mostly healed. My eye underneath was useless and pearly white, and my eyelid was permanently shut. Scars patterned over my torso and arms, mostly healed now. The pyreflies seemed to change me during my reconstruction.

I wondered if Tidus was looking at me with revulsion. I couldn’t blame him. Jecht used to say I was too pretty, that girls in taverns and inns couldn’t keep their eyes off me. Braska had said something similar, and so had his wife. But now… my skin was full of holes, lumps, and violent remembrances. They wouldn’t make that claim any longer.

This is my penance. My soul has changed, let my body as well.

Scars, so I won’t forget what happened to me. I died, but I live. I live for Braska and Jecht, and I’ll bear these marks for them.

“Auron, what are you thinking about?” Tidus looked at me, his big eyes locked on mine.

“…It’s just… hmm… I used to be… handsome.” It was almost embarrassing to say out loud. I had never thought of myself as vain. My body was just my body. I hadn’t thought about it as anything special. But now that it’s changed… I just…

“My dad had way more scars than that, and girls really liked him.” Tidus was blunt. Refreshing. Truthful. He touched my arm, running his fingers over the raised scars. He turned my arm over, looking at the lumpy brand on my wrist. He didn’t ask what it was. He just looked.

“I suppose…”

What am I complaining about? Of course Jecht had more scars than this. His seemed like they suited him. They were part of his roguish appeal. His worked in his favour. They were full of stories.

Mine… mine are a remainder of my greatest failure.

Tidus stepped back, and looked at me with raised eyebrows. “It’s been more than ten minutes.”

I smiled, in spite of myself, and quickly dressed. A box of clothing had arrived this morning, signed as a gift from Fyrian. The garments were closer to my size, and largely red in colour. I did like them. Instead of Yevonite charms and adornments, they were covered in the J that looked suspiciously like Jecht’s tattoo, and what I assumed to be blitzball related images.

The docks were still damp, and the sea air was brisk and fresh. I took a deep breath, and exhaled, looking out to the sea. Tidus mimicked my breath and blew it out dramatically, his lips spluttering around the air and making a crude noise. He looked at me with a Jecht smile, and I smiled, looking away.

So alike. Braska’s Yuna was as placid and gentle as her father. I can just imagine Tidus and Yuna meeting. Tidus would likely make a fool of himself, and Yuna would laugh gently.

Tidus elected to show me the way to his school. It was down a rather busy street, further into the confusing city. He was chattering about the class called Moth, or something, and how he didn’t care for it because the notes were too difficult.

I admitted I wouldn’t be of much help, and he shrugged, claiming Gemma was always the one to help him anyway.

I wondered why she didn’t just look after him all the time. I hadn’t noticed Tidus playing with the blitzball until it smacked me full in the face. It had come from my blind side. It certainly didn’t do any lasting damage, but it was surprising and painful, all the same.

“Oh, sorry! Why didn’t you catch— oh right! Sorry!” Tidus ran after the ball, disappearing in a crowd of people.

“Tidus, wait—“ I hurried after him, bumping into several people on my right side. Damn it. My senses have been halved with this. I wasn’t used to this many people, either.

All the buildings looked the same, glowing with artificial light and flashing signs. I could feel stares rolling over me, and tried to regain composure. I listened for his voice, and followed the sound across the road. He was talking to a tall woman with red hair, who was smiling encouragingly.

I approached them, trying to look as normal as possible.

The woman couldn’t keep the surprise from her face, and pointedly stared at my scar.

“Oh- you must be Tidus’ new guard—“

“Yes,” I cut her off before she could finish, but still felt my heart pounding. That word, that damn word.

“O-oh, good!” She smiled, showing her bright teeth. “I’m Vela, his teacher.” Her hand extended, and I took it, shaking it briefly. “A strong grip!”

Tidus nodded vigorously. “Yeah, he’s really strong! He even has a big sword and it’s way too heavy for me to lift!”

I felt a blush warm my cheeks.

“Well, I’m glad to see you have such a capable new guardi—“

“Yes, I will do my best.” I interrupted again. She looked taken aback, again, but recovered quickly.

“Oh! I have to hurry! It was lovely to see you, Tidus. And nice to meet you…?”

“Auron.”

“Auron? What a unique name!” Vela smiled again, and touched my arm. I wasn’t sure what to make of that.

She left, waving happily a few times.

“She’s kinda weird,” Tidus said. “But she brings cookies and stuff to school, so I like her.”

“I see.”

“And she liked you! Even though you’re not handsome.”

I looked up in exasperation, pressing my mouth into a thin line.

“Hey, you’re the one that said that, not me!” Tidus said.

“Sometimes people just want to say things, and not have them taken seriously.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t have to.”

“You’re weird,” Tidus laughed.

“I know.”


	6. Clean

**Clean**

 

I’ve put the purple soap away. I won’t use it. Perhaps it’s foolish, or sentimental, but just the scent of it gives me vivid, and more importantly, happy memories of Jecht. I wish I had something of Braska’s as a memento.

The bracelet. I could have kept it. Selfish. It was meant for Yuna.

“Take this to Yuna,” he said. “It’s all I have.”

I bit my lip, and sunk lower in the bath. Braska would never forgive me for these selfish thoughts.

I miss him. I wish I could go back to that place with the flowers. To apologize. To see his face once more. To get some reassurance.

It hadn’t taken long to fill the bathtub with hot water. Remarkable. Truly remarkable. Only the most revered Maester could ever dream of having a bath ready such a short amount of time. With several maids preparing water over several fires.

I remember having to help prepare the baths for the Summoners who were to be purified. Braska was amongst them. He looked peaceful on the surface, but I could imagine his heart was pounding.

The purification ritual was more ceremonious in Bevelle than any other temple. During my training, we had seen two different ceremonies, in Macalania and Kilika. We had never gone to Besaid, but I had heard the ritual was rather casual.

In Bevelle, large baths on tall plinths were prepared, and filled with sharp-scented salts and oils. The oils were gifts from the Ronso tribe of Gagazet. The scent was brisk and reminded me of the mountain paths.

Music played and young acolytes sang, and the air was stiflingly hot. I wished it were as cold as the mountain.

Discreetly, I wiped the sweat from my upper lip and forehead, and straightened up. Grand Maester Mika was addressing the new Summoners, congratulating them on their effort. His words and praise stumbled a bit when his eyes fell on Braska.

I tried not to frown. The Temple still held Braska in such contempt. It was petty. He had completed the oaths of the Summoners. He should be praised.

“Now, Summoners, bathe in the holy waters of Gagazet, and may Yevon bless you with pure hearts and bodies.”

The Summoners, fourteen of them, clothed in brightest white, approached the large baths. The monks alongside me lowered their heads. I caught Braska’s eye; he smiled, and inclined his head. Realising I had already deviated from the script, I hastily bowed my head and stood beside the bath.

“Thank you for your devotion, monks of Yevon. You are the shoulders on which the Summoners may step to reach glory,” Mika said. That was the cue to kneel, and the Summoners would use us as a step to get into the awaiting baths.

I kept my eyes on the floor, bracing for the weight of a Summoner’s foot. Usually, they were entitled, and would often step painfully on my neck. There was a dainty girl once, who took great care not to cause me any distress. I wonder what happened to her.

“-you help me up?”

Startled, I shook my thoughts away, and looked up. Braska knelt before me, smiling at me kindly.

“My Lord Summoner?” I asked. “What-?”

“I was wondering, Monk Auron, if you would help me into the bath?”

I looked around, and the Maesters looked furious. Other Summoners were already in their baths, looking drenched and awkward. A few were standing on the backs of their respective monks, who were looking more and more strained.

“Yes, my Lord Summoner,” I said softly, staring down. I hoped the Maesters wouldn’t think I had started this interruption. “Please use my back.”

“I’d rather not, but perhaps you could give me a boost,” Braska said. “It is an unnecessarily tall bath, wouldn’t you say?”

“My Lord…” My face blazed. I could feel the entire hall staring at me. “Please use my back.”

“Hmm, no,” Braska touched my arms, and guided me to my feet. “I have no intention of using you as a step.”

I wanted to run away from this room. I truly disliked being the centre of attention.

“So, just a boost, if you will.” Braska motioned with his hands, and I quickly complied, wanting this situation over as quickly as possible. He stepped in my cupped hands, his graceful hands resting lightly on my shoulders for a moment, and I lifted him up. The rest of the summoners clambered into their baths, and after a moment, Mika spoke again, with a thoroughly strained voice.

“The summoners will cleanse themselves of their _filth_ ,” he looked pointedly at Braska, who looked back in calm defiance. “And they will descend as holy beings, ready to give their lives to Yevon.”

I swallowed, and something was stuck in my throat. Fortunately, the warrior monks were not supposed to sing until afterwards, or I was certain I would choke. Stiffly, I went through the motions of the prayer, and played my practiced rhythm on the nearby drum. I had done many of these rituals, and didn’t make any errors.

Aside from the obvious one. I wondered if I would be blamed for Braska’s strange interruption.

I was.

Grand Maester Mika did not deign to reprimand me, but I was sent to the Via Purifico after the ceremony had concluded.

“Monk Auron, you know what you are guilty of.” The Corrector stood tall, his mask echoing with his words. Correctors could be any of the highest order; they wore masks to keep their punishments impersonal. At least from the point of view of the punished.

“Yes, Corrector.”

“You will offer your back, as you should have done for the summoner.”

I had only been in the Purifico one other time, when I was a new acolyte. I had stolen a loaf of bread to give to a family in prayer. The Corrector beat my hands with leather straps until I bled. The punishment must always match the crime.

“Yes, Corrector.” I shrugged out of my robe, and pulled my shirt over my head. The humid, cold air of the Purifico made me shiver.

The Corrector approached a rack, and drummed his fingers over the instruments. Reaching a decision, he grabbed a short whip. My breath stuttered in my chest. Every part of me screamed to run away. My mind guided my body to the post in the middle of the room. My hands were shaking, and I gripped the support pegs. I could feel my sweaty hands sliding on them already.

A gentle hand moved my hair to the side. It was almost tender, considering the situation.

The sound of a large mass of ice cracking.

The second whip crack brought fire. Pain, spilling down my back, ripping me in two. Three and four were much the same, but the fifth made me cry out. The whip flicked over my shoulder, and curled over my collarbone.

I held on to the support pegs, tears burning in my eyes.

“Do you feel you have atoned?”

That was a question that truly had no right answer. I said nothing, but the gasp that fell from my lips had tones of my voice.

“You must know your crime.”

My back arched against the next strike, and my hands slipped from the pegs. I pressed against the pole, squeezing my eyes shut.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

“Yevon is disappointed. You value the heretic more than Him. We have seen it.”

The heretic… I’ve heard them whisper that in the hallways behind Braska. All because his heart chose to love outside of Yevon’s domain. Ridiculous. Yevon would celebrate love, wouldn’t He?

Wouldn’t He?

Ten.

Ten strikes for interrupting the ritual. It certainly could have been worse.

Braska’s face was as white as his ceremonial robes when he found out. Usually, he was unflappable.

“Auron!”

I raised my eyes to see Braska full out running down the hallway. His robes were still soaking, and slapped against his legs. I stood straight, fighting to keep my face impassive. I hoped I was convincing. The lights were dim in the corridor, spaced further apart the closer one got to the Via Purifico.

“I heard you were ordered to the Purifico, I thought… Are you alright?” His bright blue eyes flashed as he surveyed me. “What did they do?”

“I have received my punishme—“ I said. My voice sounded dull.

“For what?!” Braska burst out, and silenced himself after hearing his voice echo. “It was _me_. I was the one who altered their script. Why wouldn’t they--?”

“Yevon does not condone violence of any sort against a summoner,” I said. My voice sounded thick, and pain lanced through my back with every breath.

“Violence?” Braska searched my face, looking for any sign of damage. “What did they do?” He touched the edge of my robe, apparently to inspect me for damage. His eyes fell on the mark on my collarbone. “Blood,” he said, and looked at me. His expression was fluctuating, from panic to anger to sadness.

“I must return to my room, my Lord Summoner.” I bowed my head respectfully, and walked around him.

I hadn’t considered the blood running down my back. It had soaked through my shirt and robe.

I could hear him say my name again, and kept walking. Again. Keep walking.

His healing spell dropped me to my knees. His hands were on me in moments, holding me up. I stared at the ground, and then at his face, while he panicked around me, casting multiple healing spells.

At last, the pain receded enough that I could take a proper deep breath. “My Lord Summoner… You shouldn’t have…”

Braska shushed me, as if I were a young child, and helped me to my feet. Footsteps sounded behind us, and he held me around the waist, and hurried down the hall.

We descended a few flights of stairs, and I leaned on him heavily. He bore my weight with little to no fuss, and in a few minutes, he stopped in front of a room. He tapped out a pattern on the door, and it opened from the inside.

“Byby, famlusa rusa!” Al Bhed? In Bevelle? I must have been hearing things.

“Hello, bumblebee. I have a guest today,” Braska said, and helped me through the door. He guided me to a small bed barely inside the door. I lay down on my face, and calmed myself. This must be Braska’s home. I’m certainly safe here.

“Byby, who is it?”

“Someone who has a good heart, like you, my dear.”

“May I help?”

Braska knelt in front of the girl, his daughter, presumably. “Certainly, bumblebee. Would you get us some warm water?”

The girl nodded, and hurried to the fireside, which was warming me from the feet up. Braska was out of sight for a moment, and returned in dry robes.

“My friend,” he said softly. “May I call you that?”

I closed my eyes and nodded fractionally. An ache from deep within kept me rooted to the bed. From my understanding, healing spells sped up recuperation, but also had a tendency to replace pain with fatigue.

“Thank you, Auron. My friend.” His voice shook. “I am so sorry for bringing you into my spite. It was not my intention for this to happen.”

“My Lord Summoner, I am yours to command.”

“Please, Auron. You mustn’t say such things.”

“My Lord…?” I opened one eye, and he was close. Closer than I was usually comfortable with. His eyes were blue, slightly darkened like a cloudy sky.

“You are not simply a step underneath the feet of those higher than you.”

I looked at him, curious. This man… this man is different.

“Byby, I have some water,” the girl brought a steaming pot, holding it carefully with a quilted fabric.

“Thank you, Yuna.”

Yuna beamed, and then her face grew somber. “Is he hurt?”

“Yes, bumblebee. He’s a brave man.”

Yuna carefully climbed onto the bed, and stroked my hair. “I will help you, sir.”

Braska smiled, and I closed my eyes again. With a bit of fidgeting, he managed to pull my robe and my shirt from my back.

Yuna made a little shocked noise, but her hands remained gentle. Warmth trickled down my back, and I thought it must have been blood again. Numbness spread over my back, and I relaxed for the first time. Braska whispered another healing spell, and I sighed, breathing normally. The air was spiced, like foreign tea.

“This is no holy water of Gagazet, but I hope it will help you,” Braska said, with a hint of humour.

A small smile quirked my lips, and I felt my drowsiness get the better of me.

That strange man.

My friend.

Braska.

The bath water was steadily getting cooler. I had been soaking for nearly an hour. I was surprised Tidus hadn’t barged in and ordered me to entertain him.

The past two weeks have been mostly peaceful. There was an incident a few days ago where Tidus’ classmates were asking too many questions about his mother, and he pushed a boy down. His teacher, Vela, was very understanding, but did give him an after school punishment of cleaning the chalkboard erasers. I stood outside the school gates for the extra fifteen minutes that it took.

Tidus seemed surprised to see me, but said nothing of it.

“I don’t like when people talk to me about her.”

“I see,” I said. “Why did you push the boy?”

Tidus pressed his lips together, and held his backpack straps tightly. “He said… he said you were a bad guy, so I pushed him.”

My surprise must have been very visible, because Tidus quickly went on.

“Because you’re not a bad guy! You’re a good guy!”

“Thank you,” I said, though I did disagree. I would do my best, but good? Braska was good. Jecht, too.

“Aren’t you going to say it’s wrong to push people?” Tidus looked up at me, resigned for a lecture.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t believe that. It’s often not the best method of communicating, but there is something to it. You let him know precisely how you felt.” I paused, and realised that was a terrible lesson to teach him. “Uh- but perhaps not at school?”

Tidus raised an eyebrow, a smile creeping around his lips for the first time today.

“I suppose… try not to push people, um, if you can,” I stammered. “Um, the people of this city value words over action. So, use words first and, uh, be nice.” I finished lamely, rubbing my forehead.

“I get it.” Tidus took my hand. “Stop trying to sound like an adult.”

I felt a blush warming my cheeks, and he laughed. The sound made me smile, and we continued on.

I have no idea how Braska and Jecht did this. Braska was easygoing, so natural with Yuna. Perhaps it was something gained when becoming a father. I could never be what they were.

I exhaled, and ripples coasted over the bath water’s surface.

I will try.

That’s become something of a mantra for me. I cannot guarantee what I can do. But I will try. That’s the least I can do for my friends.

“Auron! I’m so bored!” Tidus called from the hallway. He opened the door, and leaned heavily on the handle, swaying with the door.

I sat up, and water sloshed noisily around me. “Read a book,” I said, wringing water from my hair.

“I don’t wanna read a book. I wanna do something!”

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go to the beach!”

I sighed, and crossed my arms over the edge of the tub. “I just finished getting clean, and you want me to go get all dirty at the beach?”

“Yeah! Be a man! Being clean is for girls!”

“Being clean is for everyone,” I said. “You should probably have a bath.”

“Well, I might have but you’ve been hogging it all day. You’re gonna be all pruny like an old man.”

I raised my eyebrows, and scowled. “I suppose.”

“Come onnnn,” Tidus whined. “You’ve been in here forever. Let’s gooooo.”

“Fine,” I said. “Let me get dressed. Unless you want me to go just like this, since you’re in such a hurry?”

“Nooooo, don’t be weird!” Tidus detached from the door and jumped down the hallway. “Hurry up!”

The bath water was cold now anyway. I was dressed and ready in three minutes, and Tidus was waiting by the stairs with his blitzball under his arm.

“One more thing before we leave,” I said.

“Uuuggh, what?” Tidus groaned, tilting his head back in annoyance.

“You could be more patient. I wait for you after school each day.”

He pouted for a moment and begrudgingly nodded. “What thing before we leave?”

“Help me wrap my arm.” I offered him the bandages I wrapped my left arm in, and sat down to make it easier for him. He was exceedingly gentle, most would find it unusual for such a rough and tumble boy to be so careful. I’ve observed that my arm doesn’t want to heal the same as the rest of me. Wrapping it tightly seems to contain the pyreflies.

“There.”

“Thank you.”

“Now can we go?”

“Yes.”

The beach was sparsely populated, mostly occupied with the children from the neighbourhood. I recognized the girl Aria, probably accompanied by her mother. They murmured something to each other, and I looked away.

“Catch, Auron!” Tidus called, and I quickly turned towards the sound of his voice. I barely managed to catch the blitzball before it struck the right side of my face. “Oh! Sorry! I keep forgetting!”

“Please be mindful,” I grumbled, and tossed it back to him. This was good practice for me, though. My body responded differently now. I had to train all over again.

Tidus said this was training for him as well. That he was going to be the best blitzer Zanarkand had ever seen, and then everyone would forget about his ‘dumb old man’. His tenacity was admirable, but it was sad the way that he used Jecht as his motivation. I wondered if they would be able to come to terms, should they ever meet again. The pair of them would probably cry, and deny their tears were falling at all. It was nice to envision.

But… all Tidus has is me. Certainly not a father.

We punted the ball between us a few times, until I spectacularly missed his kick to the right and skidded across the sand. Tidus laughed, and ran after the ball. I flopped onto my back, and looked into the bright sky.

Zanarkand reminded me of Besaid when I looked at the sea and sky. I should have gone there with Yuna, and then come here.

How would I have gotten here, though? I know now that I’m only allowed here because I’m dead.

Dead. That’s still surreal. I’m here, enjoying the warm sand, listening to children playing. A corpse on the beach. My body trembled, and I squeezed my left arm. It’d be useless to disappear right now.

A shadow fell over me, and Tidus’ toothy grin filled my vision. “You okay, Auron?”

I nodded, and put my hands behind my head. “I’m relaxing.”

“I see that! You’ve been relaxing all day, though!”

“That’s true.” I sat up, and dusted some sand from my damp hair.

“Let’s swim!”

“I’ll wade,” I offered.

“Swimming is more fun! And the water’s nice!” He held his hand out to me.

I wondered if this was an appropriate time to confess. “I don’t know how to swim.” Aside from that, I certainly didn’t need to show off the maps of scars to the entire beach.

He looked at me as if I had just uttered a revolting curse word. “You don’t know how—“ The thought was unfathomable to him, the little fish boy. “Well, I can teach you!”

I stammered through a few declinations, and eventually found myself standing in the water, taking my first swimming lesson. I understood the basic principles. Don’t breathe the water in. Move your arms and legs. The first day I arrived in Zanarkand was the most extensive training I had in swimming prior to this. And that was more trying-not-to-drown than swimming.

I had stripped my sweater and heavy shirt off, but still kept the thin undershirt. People must have been staring. The scars on my right arm still glistened bright red, and my other arm was completely swathed in bandages. Damaged bodies were highly unusual here.

“Let’s go in further, so you can try.” Tidus took my hand, and led me out. We stopped when the water was nearing his throat. “Alright, now just float. If you don’t sink, then you can probably swim!”

I did as he indicated, and lay back, as if I were in an immense bath. The ribbon in my hair spun apart, and my hair fanned out behind me. The sky above was blindingly blue, and my heart calmed at the colour. The water cradled me, and I could pretend, for a moment, that I was with my friends.

It is as I said. My memories do bring me peace.

I felt Tidus’ hands move my arms, and I followed his movements, paddling around in a small circle. I raised my head from the water, and he was cheering.

“You’re not a big rock! You’re doing it!”

I grinned, and kicked my feet a bit, as I had seen him do. We swam, and he laughed so much it was infectious.

After about an hour, we decided we were both hungry, and headed home, dripping wet. Tidus had a spring in his step, and snatched my hand, swinging it as we walked.

Following the recipe in the cookbook Gemma gave me, I made a dish called risotto. Tidus ate without a fuss, as it was one of the recipes we flagged when reading before.

Tidus seemed content to sit quietly, satisfied with his day at the beach. He was doing some kind of paper folding craft.

I read a book about the history of art in Zanarkand since the beginning of the Age of Dreams. The Age of Dreams referred to the beginning of the unhindered prosperity the city enjoyed since becoming self-sufficient from the rest of Spira. It was odd to read about it from this perspective.

Tidus cleared his throat, and I looked up. He was standing above me, and holding his hands behind him.

“I made you something.”

Surprised, I shut the book, and set it aside. He brought his hands in front of him, and held a bracelet made of yellow, red, and blue paper.

“Auron, this friendship bracelet is for you, ‘cause you’re my favourite person!”

“What? Surely not… There’s-” I tried to think of anyone else, perhaps Gemma.

“Nope! It’s you! You’re my favourite!” He grinned, and placed it in my hand.

“…Thank you.” I looked at it closely, not sure how it held together. Some kind of weave, it seemed.

“Do you need help putting it on?”

“Ah, yes.”

He fiddled with it for a moment, and then fastened it around my wrist. “There!”

A simple paper bracelet. An affirmation of my efforts. Do you see, Jecht? Am I doing this right?

_Yeah, man. Thanks. You’re way better than I ever was._

Tidus grinned again, and hugged me. I wasn’t expecting it, but returned it, a grin playing across my face.

_You’re a good man, Auron._

_ _

 

 

 


	7. Alone

Tidus has a class project to grow a plant. The city uses immense hydroponic facilities to grow most of their food, and the students are all expected to learn how they work to further appreciate the gifts of the city. Being aware of the wonders of Zanarkand seemed to be similar to Spira’s devotion to Yevon.

I saw the sense in the lesson, and had some experience with plants, so I didn’t feel as useless as usual.

“Miss Vela said it’s supposed to grow tomatoes. She said it didn’t matter if they turned red, but if we have a tomato by next week, we pass.”

I examined the plant, familiar with the bizarre smell of tomato leaves. “It looks healthy so far. Be careful not to overwater it, or it could drown.”

“What? I thought they drank all the water, and if you keep watering it, it’ll get big in no time! I was gonna have a tomato tomorrow and be the best!” Tidus poked at the sponge the plant was nestled in.

“Do you think that if you ate all the food here, you would be bigger tomorrow?”

“Uh, well, no. I’d get full.”

“The plant is the same,” I picked it up, and placed it in the south window, above the sink. “Everything in moderation.”

Tidus looked from the plant to me, and beamed. “I’m glad you’re actually helpful with this!”

I realised he meant no offense with that, but I still felt a flash of annoyance. “You’re welcome.” Jecht often spoke that way. I had learned by now to assume they only ever meant to be complimentary. I brushed past him, and began to tidy the books strewn about the living room.

“Oh yeah, and you’re supposed to come to the school tomorrow,” Tidus said casually.

I turned quickly, bashed my knee into the coffee table, and dropped three of the four books I was holding. “What? For what?” I had been avoiding interacting with people as much as possible. They stared. I didn’t like it.

“Miss Vela says it’s to talk about my grades n’ stuff,” Tidus mumbled. “They’re not that bad, so I dunno.” He scratched his nose. “She said after school.”

I nodded, and picked up the fallen books.

“Maybe… don’t drop anything there.”

I sighed. “I’ll make every effort.”

Tidus smiled, and stepped into my blind spot. I turned my head, and he moved again. Suddenly, he lunged forward, and tickled my stomach. “Auron, cheer up!”

“Ah!” I cried, stepping backwards and slipping on a paperback book. My reflexes kicked in, fortunately, and I planted my other foot firmly, and flipped backwards. I landed awkwardly, and flopped onto the sofa.

“What?! That was so cool!” Tidus exclaimed. “Do it again!” He was still hovering in my blind spot, and I turned to look at him directly.

“Don’t tickle me,” I said. That sentence was too ridiculous for my voice to sound convincingly fierce. Especially since I was sprawled on the sofa.

“Or what?” Tidus said, a smile tinting his voice.

“Or I’ll… I’ll, uh…”

Tidus laughed, and leapt at me again, tickling me energetically. “You’ll what, Auron? Laugh?” He laughed, and his fingers were surprisingly strong as he pinned me down with his tickling.

I gasped for breath, laughing, calling for him to stop. Certainly, it would have been easy enough to simply lift him off of me, but the pure happiness radiating off of him was something that trumped my discomfort.

“You’re a big softy!” Tidus laughed, moving to tickle me on the neck. “Except for your prickly face!”

“Gah, stop!” I flinched away, pressing my back into the couch. He only pressed further, our laughs were approximately the same volume.

Someone knocked on the door, and opened it before getting a response. “It’s just me, sweetheart. Are you boys rough-housing?” Gemma stopped at the bottom of the stairs. I sat up, my hair sticking in all directions from the static. “A one-sided fight, I see.”

Embarrassed, I got to my feet, and Tidus sat primly on the sofa with a look of innocence. I smiled in spite of myself, and straightened my clothes, greeting Gemma properly.

“I brought you a present,” Gemma said, digging in her bag.

“A present?” Tidus sprang up. “What is it?”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Auron.” She finally extracted a small package, about the size of my hand, and handed it to me. I took it with both hands, completely taken aback.

Monks weren’t permitted to own property other than the essentials for our devotions. Even our beds and blankets and toiletries were property of the temple, and could be taken at any time, usually during a proof of devotion. My property included two sets of clothing, my armour, and my hunting knife. After finishing my acolyte training, I was also presented with a sword, specially crafted to be the ideal size and weight for me.

I was always uncomfortable with receiving gifts, especially the trinkets from the Maesters. I would usually keep them, but made a point to keep them hidden from my compatriots.

This place, it was different. Gifts could be given freely, and displayed, and enjoyed.

“Thank you very much,” I said softly, meeting Gemma’s blue eyes. “I appreciate it.”

“You haven’t even opened it,” Gemma said, smiling. “Go on.”

Reverentially, I pulled gently at the paper, not wanting to rip it. Somehow, I felt that hastily opening the gift would diminish my gratitude. Much to Tidus’ impatience, I continued opening it slowly, until a small leather container sat in my palm. I carefully placed the paper on the kitchen table, and opened the container.

Inside was a pair of silver glasses. The lenses were dark, but still translucent.

“I thought you might use those,” Gemma said, filling the kettle. “People might not stare so much.”

“Thank you,” I said softly. I felt a lump forming in my throat. It was strange, that I was becoming this emotional. I felt a surge of sorrow, and a painful loneliness. Gemma truly did remind me of my Mama.

The last time I had spoken to my Mama, she didn’t smile when I left. I had been preoccupied, ranting about the way the people in the temple treated Braska and his young daughter. She was as troubled as I about the abuse, and looked uneasy when I was preparing to leave.

“Aur, may I ask you something?”

“Of course, Mama.” I stood straight, looking directly at her.

“This man, Braska. You… you will protect him, won’t you?” She hadn’t said it as a request, but as an actual question.

“I will protect anyone who is being treated unfairly.”

“Even if Yevon is the one treating people unfairly? Would you fight Yevon?”

The question was like being doused with cold water. I hadn’t realised my faith had been so shaken that Mama noticed. I ran my fingers over the Yevonite sigils on my pack. “I would.”

Mama nodded, but did not look less distraught. “I trust your judgment.”

She reached up, and rested her hand on my cheek, and then tapped my nose gently, as she had done every night before I went to sleep. “I love you, my Aur.”

“I love you, Mama.”

I would have said more. I would have certainly thanked her.

I miss her.

“Can I try the glasses on?” Tidus asked, looking at them with great interest.

“Let him try first, you!” Gemma admonished, pouring hot water into three cups. “Go on, I’ll bet you’ll look handsome.”

The glasses were cold, but felt comfortable. I kept them down my nose a bit, to still look through my remaining eye with ease.

“Very nice!” Gemma handed me a cup of tea. “Certainly less conspicuous than an eyepatch or a mask.”

Tidus gave me a thumbs up, and took a big gulp of his hot chocolate. An interesting Zanarkand drink with melted chocolate and milk. Jecht spoke of it, and tried to replicate it with shoopuf milk, to no great success.

“Can I try them, Auron?” Tidus said, looking at me eagerly.

I took them off carefully, and handed them over.

“Cool!” He exclaimed, covering his eyes completely. “It’s all dark! These would be great at the beach!”

“Don’t you try to take those, young man,” Gemma said. “Now, go get your homework, and I’ll look it over.”

Tidus made a noise somewhere between a groan and a hiss, and handed the glasses back to me.

I took a sip of tea, and it tasted like Braska’s tea. I blinked, and looked up at Gemma, who smiled shrewdly. “It tastes fairly close, doesn’t it?”

“Braska’s tea,” I said. I had to take another sip, to be sure. So close, but something wasn’t exactly right. “How did you--?”

“I saw your memories. All the things you experienced, I also experienced.”

The thought of that was uncomfortable, but if I were to trust anyone with my memories, Gemma was a good choice.

“Which is why I made this tea.”

I nodded, and looked into the steam curling off of my cup of tea.

Braska made me a cup of tea the second time I had gone to his home. The first time was after the interrupted ritual, but I had left in the middle of the night. He had found me in the kitchens the following morning, and was mildly put out that I hadn’t stayed for breakfast. He patted my back gently, and I felt another healing spell flow over me.

The second time was two months later, after I had received Mama’s beads. Perhaps that was why the tea tasted so sweet. A thing of comfort after heartbreak.

After my nose was broken, I spent the better part of the evening drinking near the rear entrance of the temple. Kinoc had stashed bottles of ceremonial sake inside the dead tree. We agreed to drink it together if we were promoted. I would have to replace it, or risk his ire, and worse, his disappointment.

The pain in my face had dulled to a lethargic throb, as long as I sat still and drank. My fingers and toes were already numb. I would need much more to numb my entire body.

I knew Mama would have been upset with me. I could see her unsmiling face as I took an overlarge gulp. Sake spilled over my lips, and I coughed, spraying blood and sake all over myself. Pain was loud and insistent now, as if I had been kicked all over again.

I groaned, and the words that stomped through my mind trembled from my lips. “I’m alone…” My brothers, all three of them, had died when Sin attacked their traveling group near Kilika. My father, I had never known, but Mama mentioned during a melancholy hour that he had been with the Crusaders. That’s where my strength came from, she had said. She was there, and I was here, and now she’s not, and I still am. “Completely alone,” I repeated, swirling the nearly empty bottle in front of me. The world became duller with each mouthful, and I let the remainder pour down my throat. Blood mixed with it, and I choked, dropping the bottle against the broken paving stones.

I heard someone coming, and shoved the empty bottles back inside the tree.

“Good evening?” A soft, deep voice. Braska. I heard him gasp, and then the sound of his footsteps on the stones hastened.

“Auron, my friend. Are you alright?” he asked, kneeling at my side instantly. His arms were thin, but strong, and easily held me in a sitting position. His voice suggested I looked worse than I thought.

“Braska,” I gasped, doing my best to ignore the shooting pains. My mind was echoey, Mama’s form overlapped my vision. I shook my head, focusing on Braska’s angular face. His blue eyes were sharp and clear, and I struggled to meet his gaze with any conviction. “H-how are you, my Lord?”

He paused, looking dumbstruck, and then laughed. “The same as ever, aren’t you?” He moved closer, and gently took my face in his hands, whispering. My nose slid back into place with a squishy crunch. The relief was instant. Braska grimaced, and then rummaged in his pockets, producing a handkerchief. He held it to my nose. “There. It looks like you’ll still have some nasty bruises, though.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice thick and watery.

He helped me to my feet and I swayed a bit, the sake sloshing in my stomach. I felt as if I had turned several shades of green, and leaned on him. I had never drunk so much in one sitting. Usually we were permitted one small glass during festivities, certainly not two entire bottles. Small lights popped in my vision, and my mouth watered. He sensed my unsteadiness, and shuffled under my arm, holding me up.

“Certainly, my friend! You must tell me, who—“

I interrupted him by doubling over and throwing up violently. There was a lot of red in it.

“Oh dear!” he exclaimed, with the same note of cheerfulness as ever. He gripped me tighter, holding my drunken weight up with firmer hands than I would have expected. “Let’s get you to bed, hm?”

I did my best to keep up with him, but found my steps dragging. I prayed no one would see me, though Braska seemed adept at avoiding passerby. It saddened me to think of why. Certainly, someone could only abide listening to a chorus of _heretic_ following them for so long.

He tapped out the pattern from before on his door, and his Yuna opened the door with the chirpy greeting of ‘famlusa rusa’. I recognised the Al Bhed word for ‘home’. It was one of the few words I knew, since the Al Bhed I had encountered during supply journeys used it a great deal.

Yuna made a little gasp of shock again, and helped me to the bed. This time, I simply sat on the edge of it, and tried to keep from vomiting again.

“Bumblebee, would you mind preparing some hot water?”

I closed my eyes, swallowing. My mouth tasted sour.

“This one gets into all sorts of trouble, doesn’t he?” Braska said, with an audible smile. “That’s what happens to the good ones.”

“Don’t the good ones get happy endings, Byby?” Yuna asked, filling the kettle.

“Always, bumblebee. But often, they have the saddest stories.”

Braska prepared a cup of tea. He used no measuring tools, but seemed easy and certain in his preparation. After a few moments, he pushed a thick clay cup into my hands, and leaned down to look me in the eye. His hand was on my shoulder, squeezing slightly.

“May I help you, my friend?”

“My Lord?” I was genuinely confused by the question, and paused with the cup just touching my lips.

“You feel alone. I want to help you, if I might. You’ve been kind, you deserve the same.”

“M-my Lord, that’s not necessary,” I swallowed a gulp of tea, and the flavour was sweet, tangy, spiced. Thoughts of my Mama overtook my mind, and the tea comforted me. She would have comforted me if I had been this upset. She would have smiled, that tight smile that showed no teeth, and sat with her strong arm around my shoulders. She was a constant, someone I could always visit. I could expect messages. She was going to come to Bevelle in the spring. Before that, I was going to visit her.

Something wet dripped onto my hand. I blinked, and felt the tickle of tears on my cheeks. I wiped them away, and stood. Braska didn’t step back, but his gaze held strong.

“Thank you,” I said. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“Aur-“

Before he could continue, I returned the clay cup, and hurried past him. Monks were supposed to be above their emotions. Emotions were distractions of self. Distractions from Yevon. Certainly, I wasn’t thinking of Yevon.

I would have to repent. Yevon would be kind.

Kind like Braska.

He caught my arm, and his blue eyes were downcast. “My friend, please. Do not think you are alone. I know that feeling.”

Yuna had become like a statue, watching us from near the fireplace.

“You cannot deal in absolutes,” Braska continued, holding tight to my arm, just below the elbow. He spoke softly, almost to himself. “It is easy to say ‘always’ and ‘never’. ‘Completely’. But you are not alone, I promise you.”

I had to look away from his blazing eyes. His hand moved down my arm, and brushed over Mama’s beads that were wound around my wrist. I wanted to move closer. I wanted to tell him everything. I wanted to be his friend.

“I promise.”

I nodded quickly, my eyes still burning. The taste of Braska’s tea was sweet and fresh in my mouth.

When I left, he did not try to stop me.

We met in the hallways near his home the next week. I was waiting for him to return from his Summoning training, lurking in an alcove.

I could tell I had shaken him from deep thoughts when I stepped in front of him. His eyes were distracted, and then focused, and he smiled.

“My Lord,” I bowed, offering him a prayer.

“Auron! You gave me a fright!”

“I am sorry, my Lord. This is a gift.” I kept my head down, and held out what I had brought.

“A gift?” Braska said softly, and then examined the jar. I happened to look up at the moment he realised what it was. “Al Bhed Honey.” Hastily, he hid it in his robes, casting a quick look around. “Thank you, Auron.”

“You are welcome, my Lord.”

I had encountered a shrewd Al Bhed merchant during the Warrior Monks’ monthly supply escort. There was something special about the tea he served. He sold me the honey when I expressed that a friend made a similar tea.

I escorted him back to his room. At the door, he pulled the honey from his pocket, and held it up to the torchlight. It glowed like amber.

“You are kind, Auron.”

“My Lord, I had to repay you,” I said. “I… I am not alone, as you say.”

He considered me, and I could almost see thoughts swirling in his eyes.

Tidus looked at me the same way. As if I were a book with a mysterious story that he didn’t quite grasp.

“What are thinking about, Auron?” Tidus asked, playing with the glasses case.

Gemma had already gone home, after checking over Tidus’ homework, and having a few cups of tea with me.

“A friend,” I said. “A valuable lesson.”

“What lesson?”

“You are never alone.”

“I’m alone sometimes! When I’m in bed, or having a bath, you know,” Tidus said, tapping his chin.

“Hmm…” I mused, leaning on my hand.

“Are you sad, Auron?”

“Yes.”

“You want some candy?”

I thought for a moment, and chuckled. “Yes.”

I had psyched myself up for the meeting at the school for a large part of the afternoon. I took great care in my appearance, trying to look as Zanarkandian as possible. The glasses were a huge asset. When I looked at my reflection, I saw a stranger, though not a grotesque one. People didn't pay me much notice as I walked past them. It felt freeing.

The school bell rang, and I jumped. This time, I approached the front doors, which burst open and a crowd of children ran past, a flood of waist deep people. I spotted Tidus waiting inside, and joined him.

“Miss Vela says you guys can meet in our classroom,” he mumbled. “I’ll show you.”

I followed him down the hallway, looking all around at the machina weaved throughout the building. There were machina generating light, and powering the timepieces, whirring and buzzing.

We stopped in front of a classroom, and Tidus pointed in. “I’ll just wait outside, I guess?”

I was about to reply, when Miss Vela appeared at the door. “Ah, Mr. Domani!”

Startled to hear that name, I did a double take, and then bowed. “Y-yes. Miss Vela, it is nice to see you.”

“Oh dear, no need to bow!” She looked flustered, though she was smiling. “In here, if you please. Tidus, it shouldn’t be too long!”

The classroom had many tables, and chairs, and children’s art decorating the walls. I examined the drawings, and quickly found one by Tidus, of himself and a blitzball. He had also drawn what I assumed to be lovestruck girls around him.

“I wanted to talk to you about how Tidus seems to be adjusting,” Miss Vela said. “With all of the changes in his home.”

I clasped my hands behind my back, and focused on the drawing. “He is… happier than I thought he might be.”

“That’s what I thought, as well. Aside from that incident last week, he has been acting normally. More fired up than usual, even.” Miss Vela edged closer to me, our arms were nearly touching. “I believe we have you to thank.”

“I have been doing my best,” I said, shifting away from her.

She closed the distance again, and pointed to his drawing. “I believe it would be a good idea to pursue this dream of his as well. He certainly has the aptitude, if his father is anything to go by!”

“Jecht,” I said softly. I wondered if Jecht had drawn such dreams when he was a schoolboy. “He won’t speak of him.”

“Oh yes, believe me, we’ve learned the hard way,” Miss Vela laughed, and I frowned. Her laugh wasn’t unkind, but it just didn’t seem like something to laugh about. “But he will speak of you.”

“Me?”

“I had another reason to call you here,” she said, and pulled a folder from a cubby labelled with Tidus’ name. “Here.” She passed me another drawing.

It was apparently a picture of me. The crayons depicted me, scar and all. He used a lot of red for my robe. Underneath was a short paragraph, constructed of what I guessed to be his new vocabulary words. The instructions at the top of the page were to write something using at least seven of the twenty new words.

 

_My favourite person is my new friend Auron._

_He is really tall. He has black hair._

_I like him because he is reliable and he likes candy._

_He is sad at night, but he likes to smile because it makes me smile._

I read it over twice, uncertainly. The paper bracelet he made me was still safely on my wrist, protected by Mama’s beads. There was no doubt that I believed his words when he spoke, but seeing them written certainly cemented his meaning. The people in his life, his classmates, Gemma… and he said his favourite was me.

A conflict thundered in my chest. Gratitude, and guilt. Guilt that I had somehow taken something that should belong to his parents, or Gemma, certainly.

“So you can see, you’re doing fine,” Miss Vela said, slipping the drawing back into Tidus’ folder. “I thought you might want an affirmation.”

“Thank you.” My voice was quiet, and I rotated the beads on my wrist.

“I think it’s amazing, what you’re doing.” Miss Vela touched my hand, and ran her fingers over the beads. “I really admire it.”

I withdrew my hand, and inclined my head. “Thank you, Miss Vela.”

“Vela is fine,” she smiled, and tucked her fringe behind her ear. “Please let me know if you need any help with anything.”

“Of course,” I said, and bowed again.

Tidus looked apprehensive when I returned to him. “What is it? Are my grades bad? Am I failing??”

“No, nothing like that,” I said. The sun was bright in the sky after the artificial machina light. “She wanted to tell me that you are doing well. And that you should play blitzball.”

“Well duh!” Tidus perked up. “Everyone knows that! I’m gonna be the best!”

Up ahead, there was something happening on the pier. A bustling crowd around a booth of some kind was murmuring interest and there was lively music.

“Hey! I heard about this, there’s supposed to be a cool new food booth here for the summer festival!” Tidus looked on with interest, and craned his neck to get a better view. He took my hand, and his eyes were sparkling. “Dad, can we-“

He realised his mistake instantly, and the realisation crashed over his expression. I imagine mine was mirroring it; I couldn’t manage a word, let alone a calm expression.

“Um, I’m sorry! I mean- Sorry,” he stammered, still holding onto my hand. Pink spots appeared on his cheeks and his eyes shone.

“…it’s okay,” I said. The dual feeling of gratitude and guilt clashed in my heart again.

I’m sorry, Jecht.

I am not alone.

But you are.


	8. Hazard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (For those who have read my fic ‘The Harder Side of the Mountain’, there’s a bit of that in here. There is some heavily implied non-con/unwanted touching in this chapter.)

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_His dreams are dangerous._

_Why did you let him in?_

_He’s going to ruin it!_

_Silence!!!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Zanarkand was quiet. The fiends that had been so thick during our first visit here dispersed, leaving only the sounds of the creaking ruins. Every footfall crunched against the rubble, echoing. Braska’s bracelet and Mama’s beads were warm on my wrist, and I took comfort in them. I had nothing of Jecht, except for the burning crush of my ribs with every breath.

I would find her, the Lady Yunalesca. I would find her, and I would kill her.

Those undead monks from before leapt at me. I struck them down. Their blood was rancid. I thought my heart was cold, that I was numb to anything, but the scent was enough to make me retch.

Pyreflies fluttered around me, nudging against my face with interest. Their burning kisses reminded me of Braska, the scorching touches when he disappeared. He must have Sent himself. I tried to remind myself that he was surely at peace, that killing Yunalesca wouldn’t save him.

But I… I could not continue if I did not believe I was doing this for them.

It was easy to traverse the dome this time. I brushed away the pyreflies telling their stories. I saw them once. I didn’t need to know their regrets again, not when I was in the midst of settling my own.

I watched myself run past, and stilled. The pyreflies mocked me with Jecht and Braska’s images, slowing their movements as I watched them.

I slammed past the priest that was to greet the summoners, and kicked the door to Yunalesca’s chamber open, striding inside.

She stood at the end of the broken room, watching the stars swirl around the endless night sky.

Standing closer to her, I could see the harsh darkness clouding her eyes. Every shadow behind her seemed hostile, and I felt the ground under my feet writhing.

“Why have you returned, _guardian_?” Yunalesca asked. The word flared in my mind, and I felt dizzy.

“The Final Summoning is a lie!” I bellowed, readying my sword.

“A lie?” she repeated, her dark eyes raking over me. “It is hope itself. It allows us to accept fate, however tragic it might be."

Fury exploded in my chest, and fire seared my throat. “No! Where is the sense in all this? Braska believed in the teachings and died for them!” I gritted my teeth, and forced away the image of Braska’s smiling face. This was no place for peace. “Jecht believed in Braska and died for him!"

"They chose to die because they had hope," she said. To her, it was simple. She was confused as to why I was here. I was the useless one, the weak one. A man who wouldn't have made it here on his strength alone.

My hands trembled on my sword, and she smiled. It wasn't a smile of empathy, or even pity. It was patronizing. She was laughing at me.

I had no words. I ran at her, all my pain and hate, roaring behind me. It was the only thing I had left. My sword is- was for my lord, and now—

I saw a different face, more horrible than the first. Beautiful and terrible and devouring.

Yunalesca caught my blade, holding it fast with the same resonating power that Braska has. Had.

Her eyes, they pierced me, holding me in mid-air for a moment. With a flick of her wrist, she turned my sword against me, and snapped it forward.

I blinked against the blade, and was blind. A ripping sensation seared down my body; she tore me open effortlessly. Her face was vicious, like a wild animal.

She's going to eat my heart, I thought. Blood will run down her chin and stain her lips and she'll devour me with fierce beauty.

And maybe I'll be free. I'll see Braska and Jecht again, and they'll be happy. I felt a weightlessness, and wondered if I was ascending to where they went. I held on to those thoughts, blissful in the air for a moment.

I hit the ground. My images of solace seemed to shatter with the impact. I hit the ground again, and felt my bones bend.

The feeling wasn't as horrible as the sound.

Yunalesca’s fingers were cold and sharp and sudden, and she pierced my armour. My heart was pounding in her hands. Her lips were red. When she kissed me, it tasted like metal. This was my reward, my rightful punishment for betraying the memory of my friends and throwing my life away.

The stars above went out one by one, and I was a dead man, a plaything of this tarnished goddess. She kissed my neck, and bit my throat. Where there was fire, now it was slick red. She tore away my clothes, as if she were ripping pages from a book. She scattered me, and her tongue was a snake, venom filled my mouth. It poured from the hole where my heart had been. She laughed and laughed and laughed.

Her teeth were cutting patterns

into my skin, and

I cried.

Myfaceinmyhands.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He is disgusting._

_Disgusting._

_He will destroy the innocence here!_

_He is brave. He is kind. He has been **hurt**._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Auron, please wake up.”

I recognised the voice, but wished it were another. I gasped, and felt my fingernails digging into my forehead. My hands were cages around my face, and I tried to unlock them.

“It’s just a bad dream again.”

I sobbed, and bit my lip to silence myself. The suppressed cry protested in my chest, and broke free again.

Just a bad dream.

The fear from the dream still held me, but mixed with pure relief. I know where I am. I know who is holding me. I slowed my breaths, and focused on his lean strength. He was trying to pull my hands away, and I resisted, keeping my eye shut. He would look at me with concern. I couldn’t face that.

I could still feel Yunalesca’s snake-like grip coiled around my arms, and I shuddered, holding back a cry. If I am to be a- a _guardian_ , I must be able to control myself.

That word in my thoughts was enough to shake me. Pyreflies buzzed under my skin. I’m sure I must have been glowing from within.

No. Control.

Control yourself.

I opened my eye, and blinked rapidly. Tidus’ frightened face hovered before me, illuminated by an undulating light. Yunalesca’s face flashed in front of his, and I squeezed my eyes shut again. My fingers were scratching down my forehead, I could feel the cold whisper of her breath against my open wounds.

“You’re hurting yourself.” His voice was soft, but tears tinted the sound. “Please don’t disappear!”

He must have seen pyreflies like this in this bedroom after his mother changed. Yunalesca’s teeth were still sharp against my neck.

“Please, Auron!” He was more insistent, grabbing tight to my hands and wrenching them away from my face. His words dissolved into full sobs, and he hugged me, pressing his warm face into my neck. “I don’t wanna be alone!”

Alone… I was a man by the time I had to face being alone. I could not allow that for a child. I shook my head, and tried to speak. My voice was trapped, so I settled for returning his embrace. I hoped my arms weren’t crushing him.

“Auron, are you- are you back?”

I nodded, dispelling the thoughts of Yunalesca. I focused on anything else, the texture of Tidus’ hair on my cheek, the smell of Jecht’s soap still lingering in this room. Lavender, Tidus had said.

“I’m sorry,” I croaked eventually, after our breathing had settled.

He sniffed loudly in response, and pulled away, hastily wiping his eyes and nose. “Are you okay?”

“I am… better now,” I said slowly. “Are you alright?”

“You just scared me,” he said. His eyes shone in the minimal light. “I thought you were going to turn into a monster. You kept saying stuff.”

I was silent, and frowned, which only made me wince. My forehead was raw with fresh gouges from my fingernails.

“You said Braska again, and my dad’s name.” I wondered why he was informing me of this. Perhaps he wanted an explanation, but there was no way I could tell him all that. It was too much. “And you cried again. You kept saying ‘no’.”

I touched my chest, wondering if there was truly a hole there. My skin was damp with sweat, but intact.

Just a bad dream.

A wave of fatigue slammed into me, and I slumped, exhaling a long breath. Tidus slowly got off the bed, and picked up the fallen lamp, the source of the unusual light. He must have turned it on before he tried to wake me. I must have knocked it over.

“You should go back to sleep, Auron,” he said, straightening out the blankets that were twisted around me.

“I am sorry for waking you,” I said hoarsely. “You should sleep, as well.”

His silhouette was small, but still looked burdened with the troubles of one many times his age. “I wasn’t asleep anyway. It’s cold in my room.”

I offered him my blanket, but he shook his head.

“I just… miss my mom, you know?”

“I understand,” I said. It was true, and he seemed to realise it.

“Did your mom die too?”

“Yes, about two years ago.”

Tidus sat on the bed, and kicked his feet, looking down at them. “Did your mom like you?”

“I believe she did,” I murmured, spinning Mama’s beads. “Your mother-“

“She didn’t like me,” Tidus said. His voice was flat, factual. “She only liked my dad. That’s why- that’s why I hate him!”

I had no reply, nor did it seem he required one. There was a long silence, and Tidus’ kicking ceased.

“Do you like me, Auron?”

“I do,” I said.

“Why?”

A difficult question, but I did my best to answer. “You are confident, and I admire your kindness.” It truly was marvellous that he was so gentle, when he had only been treated with neglect and unkind words.

Jecht was remorseful, that much was certain. If only his remorse could have been shown to his son.

Fatigue pulled me further down, and I lay back down. Tidus pulled the blankets up to my chin, and returned to his vigil at the edge of the bed.

“Just sleep, okay? Don’t have bad dreams.”

I was already slipping back into the darkness, but nodded as best I could.

More than I was, he was a guardian.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Remove him._

_Destroy him._

_He will be our ruin._

_We will be freed!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I heard the Hymn of the Fayth in my waking moments.

It was Jecht’s favourite. It always made me suspect his story of being from Zanarkand was false. If he truly was from some otherworld, certainly, he wouldn’t know the holy songs of Yevon.

And yet… There were suggestions of my Spira in this Zanarkand. Not to any religion, unless Blitzball was considered one, but there was something in the architecture, the art. My Spira’s versions of statues and carvings were considerably cruder, but similar in design.

I wondered if there was some grand architect planning these worlds.

The Hymn continued, and I opened my eye slowly. The room was bright, and the fresh scent of the sea caressed my face like a lover’s hand. Sunlight twinkled on the crystals strung up in the window, sending little rainbows dancing across the blankets. The sunbeam that fell across my legs was warm. I rolled over, and saw Tidus sitting at the windowsill, folding paper birds. There were six so far, multi-coloured and lined up in a neat row across the sill.

He, of course, was humming the Hymn.

I listened for a few minutes, and he finally placed the seventh paper bird with the rest of them. They resembled the rainbow lights that flickered around them.

Tidus finished the hymn, and looked at me. Apparently, he was expecting me to still be asleep, as he visibly jumped when he caught my gaze.

“Ah! How long have you been awake?”

“A few minutes,” I said. My voice was raspy. “I was listening.”

A blush swept across his cheeks, and he pressed his lips together. “That’s weird.”

I cleared my throat and sat up. “Did you sleep?”

He nodded, and pointed at an extra pillow and blanket beside me on the bed. “You snored a lot though, so I woke up early.”

“Hmm…” I rested my chin on my knees, and closed my eyes. I recalled last night’s dreams in a flash, and shivered, despite the warm sun on my shoulders. Tidus obviously noted my discomfort, and he touched my arm gently.

“I’m hungry, Auron.”

I nodded, and straightened up, combing my hair back with my fingers. I braided it back loosely, and swung my legs out of bed.

Last night was the first night I spent in an actual bedroom. With considerable pressure from Gemma and Tidus, I moved myself to Jecht’s bedroom. Gemma would hear no protests, and insisted I needed privacy, and furthermore, my things were cluttering up the living room. She was difficult to disobey.

I had to admit, the bed was very comfortable.

I stood, and stretched, grimacing at the taut pinch of the scars on my chest. A gust of wind chilled my back, and I reached for my robe.

“Ah!” Tidus gasped, snatching his birds off the windowsill. “Oh, man,” he groaned, looking out the open window.

I joined him, and looked down, to see the red bird bobbing on the surface. Water was quickly creeping over the paper, darkening it and sinking it.

“I liked that one best, it had the nicest wings!” Tidus grumbled irritably, holding the other birds more gently than his voice would suggest. “Now it’s just down there alone.”

Alone… I looked at the birds in his hands, and plucked a light blue one out of the bunch. I tossed it out the window. It landed next to the nearly sunk red one, and began the same process.

Tidus’ reaction was unusual. I almost expected him to shout at me, but he just looked at the two birds in the water. His eyes were focused, and bright. I wondered what he was thinking, with a face like that.

We made room on the bookshelf for the remainder of the rainbow birds, and began our day as normal.

Today was the first day I went anywhere other than the food shop and Tidus’ school. He had a research project for school, more to do with the plant life studies. They were to pick their favourite plant, and explain the features and benefits of the plant, and how it contributed to Zanarkand.

From what I understood, the schooling system was crafted precisely to create citizens who would help to keep the city running efficiently. Tidus was telling me that in fifth grade the students get to choose their specialty, and then their classes are tailored to their chosen vocation. He said he couldn’t wait to be the best blitzer, and then he wouldn’t have to do stupid Math ever again.

I admit, it would take some of the pressure off to not have to worry about Math.

The library was an enormous building, lit brightly with countless lamps. The shelves were monumental, and some required ladders to reach their full height.

When we arrived, Tidus ran to join his classmates, who still looked at me warily. I nodded to their chaperones, and after making sure Tidus had settled in, I explored the library myself.

A great number of the books appeared to be fiction. Fiction was something rather unusual in my Spira. Fanciful writing and dreams of other worlds were difficult to tell or sell. We were more interested in scripture and re-reading all the same old tales. That was simply the Yevonite way.

Eventually, I found the history section, and quickly became engrossed in reading the titles, speculating on the contents.

One book in particular stood out, and my heart leapt into my throat.

_The Art of The Lady Yunalesca Yevon._

Her name in gold foil on the spine of the book froze me in place.

“Sir?”

“Uh-“ I turned, and a young man with a large pair of glasses smiled at me over a stack of books. His teeth were crooked, but his smile was genuine and his glasses shone bright under a mop of black hair.

“You can use our private reading areas if you find anything you’d like to peruse further.” He pointed to some walled areas with chairs and lamps. “Is there anything I can help you find?”

“Yunalesca,” I said quietly, pulling the book from the shelf. “Anything else on Yunalesca.”

“Ah, are you doing a research thesis? There’s a few more books with her in the Wars, General History, that one you’ve got there in Art History, there’s a few in Children’s, but those are mostly fairy tales, there’s one or two in Fiction, but you know how reliable those can be.” The young man spoke quickly, and as he did, his glasses slid further down his nose. He pushed them back up and continued. “What’s your thesis on? Cause if it’s purely historical, you’ll probably want the books in Gen and actually, I just remembered there’s actually a cookbook about old style cuisine and there’s apparently her favourite recipe for fruit salad or something.”

I was under the impression that regardless of what I said or did, the young man would talk at great length. I settled on nodding, and thanking him, and headed to the reading area.

He followed me, still chattering on about my supposed thesis and how he was ‘eager to help me, and he’d go pull all those books right now and set me up with a library card’. He was oddly charming, in a pushy sort of way. He reminded me of both Braska and Jecht, which was a combination I would have thought improbable.

The book on Yunalesca was large and thin, and had a great deal of photographs and reproductions of sketches and drawings.

 _RIGHT:_ _The Lady Yunalesca’s first plans for the Gigas Dome, where her sculptures are preserved and maintained to this day. Originally, the statues were meant to be constructed from precious metals, but later, with the more conservative input of Lord Zaon, Yunalesca opted to use polished marble and other fine stone._

I had seen that statue in Tidus’ blitzball book; he was some kind of blitz hero. A few pages later, the artwork was looking decidedly more Spiran, like the fayth in Bevelle. I should never have seen the fayth. Braska insisted it was fine, that if the fayth deemed me unworthy, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the door. He was so certain, so determined.

I traced over the long scar on my face as I read. Yunalesca seemed to be a happy woman. Her drawings of Zaon were numerous, each one more delicate than the last. There was genuine love in those drawings.

_ABOVE, LEFT, RIGHT: The Lady Yunalesca used her husband Lord Zaon as her muse, claiming him to be the ‘truest beauty of Zanarkand, unmatched by even the most glorious of her works’._

The woman in this book is no more. Her Zaon was a cold dead stone now, like the statues she loved to craft. She herself has none of the bright colours in this book. She was so weary, so worn. The most alive she had looked was the moment she struck me.

A flash of pain lanced over my scars, and I squeezed my eyes shut, clenching my teeth to keep silent. I tried to focus on anything but the memory tearing through my mind, but the book was no help whatsoever.

“Hey, Auron!” Tidus’ voice snapped me back, and I cleared my thoughts, looking at him as he approached. His teacher, Miss Vela, was with him, and was smiling the same as ever. She had lipstick on her teeth. “Miss Vela wants to talk to you.”

I nodded, and stood, holding my place in the book with my finger. “Ah, yes. Good afternoon,” I bowed, and she giggled.

Tidus gave me a thumbs up, and dashed out of sight.

“Miss Vela,” I said. “How may I be of service?”

“Oh, goodness, Vela is fine, remember?” Her hair was curled today, and glinted copper in the lamplight. “I was just wondering…”

I waited for her to continue, expressionless. I realised she was probably expecting something more, so I nodded for her to continue.

“…wondering if you would like to get a drink with me sometime?” Vela said quickly, and then giggled again.

“A drink. Are you thirsty?” I said. “I thought I saw a water fountain outside.”

She giggled, more nervously this time. “I’m so bad at this. Ahh, I mean, I would like to go out to get a _drink_ with you. Perhaps tonight?”

“Uh.”

“Nothing serious!” Vela was looking less and less composed. “Just a little date to get to know each other.”

I blinked, and envisioned Jecht elbowing me in the ribs with that lascivious smile. I was never good at this kind of thing. I didn’t have any natural instincts at all.

“My treat?” Vela offered, and stepped closer to me. “No pressure. I thought you might be in need of a friend after all this time.”

It was true, I missed my friends every day, but I honestly didn’t want to make new ones right now. Gemma was the exception, but she was different.

Vela stepped closer to me, and I could smell her perfume. It was like a bouquet of too many flowers. Confusing and heady. Was I supposed to like that smell?

I didn’t.

Her eyes were shining, and her hair looked nice, but that was where my observations ceased. I should be noticing something else, right, Jecht? What was I supposed to do here?

“I’ll be at the Leviathan tonight, if you want to meet up,” Vela smiled, and I was distracted by the lipstick on her teeth. “Or maybe we could meet at your house?”

My house? That’s not my house. I was confused, and a bit irritated now. “I must decline, Miss Vela.”

She looked surprised, and then giggled again. “Playing coy, that’s fun!” She whispered, as if we were in on a fun secret.

I took a step backward to gain some distance from her. My back pressed against the wall as she closed the gap again. Her chest pressed into me, and I frowned, arching myself away as best I could. “It’s not against any rules for us to be out together, since you’re not technically Tidus’ parent, just a guardian.”

The word slammed the air out of my lungs. I struggled to catch my breath, but her perfume was thick in the air. I could taste the false flowers, and the scent filled my chest. Her image fractured in front of me, and I heard the book hit the floor as my hands came up to my face.

Yunalesca smelled like this. She tasted like metal and sounded like snakes.

She sent this woman to destroy me.

I pushed my back into the wall, and struggled to remain upright. I could see Yunalesca’s fingers, long nails, claws, coming to take my heart.

I was on the floor, and there were hands all over me.


	9. Remedy

o-o-o-o-o-o

_We did it._

_He’s disappearing._

_It didn’t require much._

_You all will regret this._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Everything around me was shimmering, as if I was looking through a haze of steam. Everything seemed lightened, as if everything was being erased from the brightest spots. Distantly, I heard the sound of drums, and wondered if I was missing a ritual.

The haze of steam turned to snowflakes, and I breathed in the fresh wintry scent. Winter was always my favourite time of year. It brought peace, and gratitude toward the hard work in the summer. In Bevelle, winter was seen as an inconvenience to most, but I always admired the jewelled city muted by the pristine white.

When Summoners trained in Bevelle, they wore white. They were permitted to wear anything on their pilgrimages, but within the walls of the temple, they wore white. They looked beautiful when they walked together, all sorts of faces, young and old, united by the clean beauty of their robes.

Braska… his robes were never quite as clean as the others. There were many reasons, I’m sure, but to me, it didn’t matter.

He shone the brightest.

The procession of Summoners halted most traffic, and I leaned against the cart I had been escorting for most of the week. Supplies from Bevelle had to go to Macalania every two weeks, and I was often assigned to it in the winter. My master at arms seemed to be aware that the cold was never a burden to me, unlike Kinoc. He was grumbling and moaning, bundled up in the back of the cart. A particularly nasty Ice Flan had caught him off guard, and his legs were useless with frostbite.

I was also wounded, but it was nothing a trip to the infirmary wouldn’t take care of. Basic first aid was important on escort missions. The temple would never send anyone with white magic, deeming their abilities too important to risk.

Warrior monks were expendable.

I bowed my head as the Summoners went past, and tried to ignore the sound of Kinoc’s complaining inside the cart.

I could feel someone’s gaze on me, and knew it must have been Braska. I raised my eyes to him, and he smiled softly. He whispered something, and a potent healing spell breezed past me. The stiffness left my body, and I smiled back.

Snow fell harder, and I squinted past it, trying to keep my eyes on Braska’s long hair.

Everything was disappearing in the snow. I called out his name.

I realised I was alone on the mountain.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He is almost gone._

_We have almost done it._

_Erase him!_

_Get away from him!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

The Gagazet fayth were monstrous. I tried to imagine what their faces might look like.

I approached the wall, and became less aware of my body. It would be so easy to just let it go completely, and sink into this wall. Sleep.

I stood, but I had no legs, and I looked, but I had no eyes.

“Come back, Auron.”

I wanted to speak. My thoughts were floating before me, twinkling golden letters. If I didn’t speak, wouldn’t it be over? Would I find peace? I wanted to go to the place with the flowers. Braska would find me.

“They won’t let you go there. They want to erase you.”

I had heard this voice before. I had heard snippets of conversation when I slept. This was the last voice. A dissenting fayth.

“Herald of the dawn, do not let them take you. I promise you will find your way to the flowers.”

I don’t know if I deserved the flowers.

“You do. You’ve been so strong. Please, continue to be strong.”

How much longer? I don’t want to keep feeling this way. I’m weak. I’m not help to Tidus. He takes care of me. What good am I?

“Please, please don’t disappear.”

Tidus said that. He didn’t want me to disappear. Everyone important to him left him, or didn’t care what he wanted or needed. I couldn’t be another like that. I had to be there for him.

“He loves you. He needs you.”

He needs me. My only purpose is to protect others. I exist to protect him. I promised Jecht.

I am his guardian.

His _guardian_.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Guardian!_

_He turned it into his own weapon!_

_Guardian!_

_He won. Never challenge us again!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Auron!”

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened! He had some kind of fit!”

“I may be able to help, I’m a doctor.”

“No! Go away!”

“Tidus, please. This woman can help.”

I opened my eye, and all I could see was Tidus’ bright yellow shirt. I seem to be intact still. I wondered if there were pyreflies floating around me, burning his skin. I had the vaguest notion of winter; I expected my breath to be visible. A chill was in my bones, and I shivered.

I coughed, and Tidus pulled away enough to look at me. There was a small crowd of people around us, and my cheeks burned with embarrassment.

“Sir, are you alright?” the doctor asked. “Can you-“

“Auron, you’re okay, right?” Tidus interrupted. “Let’s go home!”

I nodded, and pushed my glasses up my nose. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know what came over me.”

Tidus was obviously distraught, if the redness of his cheeks and the tears in his eyes were anything to go by. Shakily, I stood, trying my best to appear steady.

The doctor insisted I sit down, and held my wrist for a moment, checking her watch. The crowd dispersed, leaving only the doctor, Tidus, Miss Vela, and the odd librarian.

I just wanted to leave. I felt weary, as if I had just fought a long battle.

The doctor stepped back, and considered me. “You seem to be fine now, do you have any pre-existing conditions?”

“I—“ I didn’t know what she meant, and I was just so tired now.

“Leave us alone!” Tidus said, and pushed the doctor back. He stood in front of me fiercely, and brandished his fist.

I stood up, and closed my hand around his fist. “None of that,” I said.

Tidus looked up at me, and then glared at the rest of them. He settled on sticking out his tongue, and I led him away, inclining my head to them in turn.

“Good day,” I said. “Thank you for your concern.”

Tidus stomped in front of me, his little fist still encased in mine. “Are you really okay, Auron?”

“I think so,” I said softly, breathing a bit easier as we approached the front doors. “Are you—“

“Here’s your library card!” The odd librarian was suddenly beside me. He crept in on my blind side. His shoved the card in my face, nearly giving me a papercut on the underside of my nose.

Instinctively, I drew back from him, and stepped in front of Tidus.

“Ah, sorry!” the librarian said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

I took the card, and pursed my lips together.

The librarian laughed, and pushed his dark hair from his face. “Come back again and I’ll help you find whatever you need!”

I nodded, and Tidus led me out of the library. The path to the library was one of the steepest in the city, and overlooked the business districts and the numerous factories that supplied food and drink. Lights shone bright in the dying sunlight, perpetuating the illusion of daylight.

We decided to take the long way home, since we had eaten dinner before we came to the library, and looked in a few shops on the way back. Tidus lingered in front of a bakery, and was staring hungrily at the cakes displayed in the window. I found the ones with fresh fruit to be particularly appetizing. There were fruits called ‘peaches’ here that were my favourite Zanarkandian food. We had plums in Spira, but they were nowhere near as delicious.

“Can we get a cake?”

I considered that, but denied him. “I don’t think we could eat it before it spoiled.”

He pouted a bit, and mumbled something under his breath.

“What was that?” I leaned in.

“I said, ‘I bet I won’t even get a cake for my birthday’, okay?”

I blinked, recalling Jecht had said something about birthdays, but I couldn’t recall exactly. “What’s your birthday?”

“It’s the second last day of this month, so it's next week,” Tidus said. “My mom would always buy a cake and we’d invite Gemma and Abel over.” His eyes became watery again, and he quickly wiped his nose.

“To celebrate the day you were born?”

“Yeah, when’s yours?”

“I… don’t know.”

“What? How don’t you know? Did you forget or something?”

“I’ve never celebrated a birthday,” I said.

Tidus gave me a look I was becoming used to, and kept walking past the bakery. Perhaps eventually I would learn the customs and traditions of Zanarkand, and I would stop receiving that look that made me feel stupid.

Until then, I’d just have to use Tidus as my sometimes scathing guide.

“Do you remember anything about when your birthday is?” Tidus asked, punting his blitzball along the path.

“My mama said it was in the winter, I think,” I said, following the blitzball’s zig-zag progress.

“You kinda seem like a winter person,” Tidus said. “Did it snow where you lived?”

“It was snowy almost half the year where I lived as a child. The ponds and lakes would freeze over.”

“That sounds cool! I’ve only seen snow once, but it was really fun!” Tidus laughed, and kicked the blitzball up, bouncing it on his knees. “I’ll bet you I can bounce this on my head!”

I halted, watching, and motioned for him to try it.

He bounced the ball on his knees twice more and then launched it towards his forehead. It hit him square in the nose, and then launched over the side of the railing.

“Ahhh, no!” Tidus exclaimed, and dashed to the railing. I joined him, and looked down. The blitzball was bobbing in the canal several storeys down. As I was pondering how to get down there, a stick poked out from the shore, and someone plucked the ball out of the water. Indistinct conversation weaved its way upward, I could only catch the odd word, one of them being ‘autographed’.

“That’s mine!!” Tidus bellowed over the railing. “Give it back!”

There was no reply, and a long silence.

Tidus made a frustrated sound, and swung his leg over the railing. My heart jumped, and I grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Let me go! I’m gonna go get it! That was my only ball!”

“You can’t jump!” I growled, hoisting him over my shoulder.

“Then you jump! I need my ball, or I’m never gonna become a blitzer and then my stupid dad wins!” Tears were working into his voice, and his slammed his hands against my back.

I studied the area, and saw some stairs about halfway down to where the canal was. “Alright,” I said, readjusting him so he was on my back like a monkey. “Alright, hold on tight.” It was almost… exciting?

I stepped on to the railing, and held on to it from the other side. There was a small platform that I leapt to, then a jutting balcony, the side of walkway, and then finally the side of the stairwell. Tidus whooped with joy close to my ear, and laughed.

“Auron, that was so _cool!_ ”

It had been a long time since I had done anything like that, and I grinned too.

I let him down off my back, and we hurried down the stairs.

“Hey! Ball thief! Give it back!” Tidus yelled, shaking his fist at the empty air. There was no one in sight, nor any indication of where they might have gone. “Auron, where did they go?!”

“I don’t know.”

“Help me look!”

We looked around the small courtyard, to no avail. Tidus was steadily becoming more emotional, and was struggling to keep from crying. “Auron, I’m not going to be a blitzer now! I’m gonna have to work at the stupid tomato farm and wash tomatoes all day and everyone’s gonna laugh at me, and—“ He burst into tears, and ran into me. Awkwardly, I patted his hair, and gripped his shoulder with my other hand.

“You won’t have to work at a tomato farm,” I said, which might have been the oddest thing I had ever said as reassurance.

“But I need a ball to practice, or else I—“ He clutched my sweater, and pressed his face into my stomach. “I wanna be the best blitzer!”

I wasn’t sure what to say or do, so I just lifted him onto my shoulders, and walked back up the stairs while he sniffled into my hair. Tidus was silent after a while, and I eventually found my way home.

I let him down from my shoulders, and he shuffled off to his bedroom and shut the door.

I looked at his bedroom door for a few moments, and then knocked on it. “Tidus, are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.”

“I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Okay.”

The air was warm, even on the deck of the houseboat, but I was still cold. I looked out to the silhouette of the city, as the lights grew brighter in the absence of the sun. I sat on the bench, and pulled the ribbon from my hair, absent-mindedly combing my fingers through it as I gazed at the skyline. Grey streaked through it, more visible in the lessening light.

“Auron, are you up there?” Gemma’s voice, from the lower deck.

“I am,” I said, not taking my eyes away from the city. It was as beautiful as Jecht said. Dusk was really when this city shone brightest.

“Do you mind if I join you?” Gemma asked.

“No, please,” I said, shuffling over a bit. Gemma sat down next to me, and dropped a thick woollen blanket over my lap.

“I thought you might be chilly. Summer’s not quite here yet, you know.” Gemma settled in next to me, and lit her pipe. The smoke darted away on the wind, away from me. Conscientious, I thought. “Are you alright?”

I took a deep, refreshing breath, and pulled the blanket up to my shoulders. “I feel… weary. But also like something has been lifted from my mind.”

“I see. How is Tidus lately?”

“He lost his blitzball today. He’s quite upset about it. He says he doesn’t want to grow up to be a tomato farmer.”

Gemma chuckled a bit. “There’s no danger of that, I don’t think. Were you going to get him a new one? Those regulation balls aren’t cheap.”

“I… I don’t really have any money. We’ve got the food money papers, but…”

“I can loan you some spending money, dear.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to clean off the sides of my boat, though.” Gemma tapped her pipe in the ashtray beside her. “That’s fair, isn’t it?”

“I believe it is,” I said, covering my cold nose with the blanket. The city flared into colourful light as the sun dipped fully below the horizon.

“I’ll make some tea,” Gemma said, getting to her feet. “Maybe you should come indoors?”

“Not yet,” I said softly. “In a few minutes, perhaps.”

“Alright,” Gemma said, and kissed the top of my head. “Don’t freeze out here!”

I nodded, and brought my knees underneath my chin, with the blanket swathed around me like a cocoon.

 _Hey there, Auron._ Jecht’s voice rode the wind, and whispered about my ears.

“Jecht.” I closed my eye, and focused on his insubstantial voice, resting my forehead on my knees.

 _You won, hey_?

“What did I win?”

_You won back your title. Your honour, you’d say, probably._

“My honour… as a… guardian.”

_Yup. Good job. I saw it go down, all those things latching on to you._

“I don’t remember.”

_It was all white. You almost disappeared for good. It was the fayth._

I remembered the procession of Summoners, all dressed in white. The only one I really looked at was Braska. The mountain… I stood before the fayth, and they were welcoming me into their arms. I could have been free. Except…

“I promised you,” I said. “I’ve been… having trouble.”

_I know. But we gotta work on this whole Sin thing._

“I will try.”

_Hey, would you… Would you sing for me?_

“Sing?” I lifted my head, but still kept my eye shut.

_That song in the temples, you know, that one I recognised? What was it again?_

“The Hymn of the Fayth,” I said. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

_Yeah, that’d be nice._

I had never been over-confident in my singing, I always felt my voice was shaky out of nervousness, and I’d often let it fade underneath the stronger tones of the other monks. For Jecht I could be braver. The notes hummed through my chest, and I sang with more confidence than I ever had. I could hear Jecht’s voice, harmonizing.

We sang together until his voice faded, and I was alone.

I didn’t realise how much his presence warmed me until he was gone. A cool blast of sea air pierced through my blanket, and goosebumps rolled all over me.

Gemma was just setting down three mugs on the table when I returned, and she nodded to me and gestured towards Tidus’ bedroom door.

“Tidus,” I said, knocking on his door again. “Please come out.”

“I’m fine, go away.”

“There’s hot chocolate.”

There was a long silence, and then his door opened a crack. He peered at me and I noticed his eyes were red. He sniffed, and then exited, wiping his eyes. “I heard you singing.”

I blushed a bit, and looked away.

“It sounded nice.”

“It did,” Gemma said, sipping her tea. “I haven’t heard that song in a very long time.”

I was embarrassed, and vowed never to sing again.

“You should sing again,” Tidus said.

After a week had passed, I had nearly finished scrubbing Gemma’s boat to a gleaming shine. It seemed that summer was falling on Zanarkand early, I had to strip down to light pants and tied my hair up high to keep it off my neck. And still I was sweating. Granted, the work wasn’t easy, but I was surprised to feel so worn out. This sort of thing was comparable to our daily chores in the temple, certainly, I shouldn’t feel so tired.

Gemma regularly brought me icy water and peaches, and I spent the duration of Tidus’ school days for the week scrubbing. He was suspicious when I arrived at the school red-faced and rumpled each day.

“Why do you look so sweaty?”

“I’ve been working.”

“Working on what?”

“I’ve been cleaning Gemma’s boat.”

“Oh.”

He had been subdued since he lost his blitzball. Gemma informed me that birthday presents were supposed to be a surprise, so I had avoided the topic altogether. Blitzballs were expensive, at least the regulation type that Tidus needed, but Gemma said the money I earned from cleaning her boat would be more than enough.

She also gave me a list of ingredients to make a cake, claiming that ‘the ones in the shop were all fluff and you can make one just fine’. I wasn’t sure if I could.

There was still a while before I had to pick up Tidus from school on his birthday, and I began to prepare the cake. I followed the recipe to the letter.

Putting the frosting on it proved to be difficult. It melted off, and crumbles of cake mixed in with the sloppily applied frosting. I consulted the recipe book, and cursed when I realised I was supposed to let the cake cool.

I had no idea what I was doing. It seemed at odds with everything else in my life up until now. My hands weren’t suited to delicate work. I really was only good at fighting, and scrubbing apparently.

I should have just bought a cake. This one is ugly.

The frosting tasted good, at least. I licked it off my knuckles, and sat on the kitchen stool, frowning at the melted lopsided mess. This was an instance where I assumed ‘it’s the thought that counts’ would become relevant.

“I’ve got the ball, sweetheart!” Gemma called, clomping down the stairs. She was wearing what looked like Abel’s rubber boots. “I got the most expensive one, you definitely earned it. Jecht-approved or some such—“ She paused while handing me the ball, staring at the cake.

“I know, it’s hideous,” I said dejectedly.

“Well… it could be more attractive, but who cares once you eat it? Have you got candles?”

“No…” I said slowly. “Those are important, right?”

“I can see about finding some, you’d best go pick Tidus up.”

I hurried out the door, pulling my red sweater on and zipping it up.

“Oh! Wrap this up, though!” Gemma tossed me the blitzball, and began rummaging through the kitchen drawers in a search for candles. I clumsily wrapped the ball in numerous pieces of paper, getting bits of tape all over myself. It looked approximately as good as the cake.

Tidus was cheery when I greeted him, and showed me the gifts he had received from his classmates.

He chattered excitedly about the little celebration they had this afternoon. “And then I got to be the king, and we played musical chairs, and we got cookies.”

I smiled, enjoying his improved mood. I wasn’t sure what to do for this last while. We played catch with a makeshift ball that I made out of balled up paper and tape. It certainly wasn’t the same, but he did appreciate my effort. He tried to smile, but it wasn’t fully genuine.

It was troubling that he was sadder about the loss of his ball than his own mother. But perhaps she didn’t represent anything that cheered him or promised dreams and glory. In his vulnerable moments, he admitted missing her, but didn’t cry.

He ran up the pier, and up the ramp to the boat. “Can we have risotto for supper? It’s my birthday, so I get to choose!”

“Of course,” I said. “That’s the tradition, is it?”

“Yup!” He put his hands on his hips, and thrust his chin forward. He looked so much like his father it stopped me in my tracks. “C’mon, Auron, don't be slow!” I could hear Jecht’s voice saying the exact same thing, and followed Tidus inside.

“Ohhh, a cake!!” Tidus dashed to the counter, and examined the cake, such as it was. “I can’t wait!” His eyes fell on the ugly round parcel on the table and he actually jumped for joy. He turned to me, his eyes bright. “Is that what I think it is?!”

“You’ll have to wait for that,” Gemma said, emerging from the bathroom with a few stumpy candles in her hands. “Presents are for after supper and cake. I started risotto, is that alright?”

Tidus nodded enthusiastically, and eyed the present with obvious excitement. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of it for the duration of dinner, where he told Gemma all the things that happened at school that day.

He bounced around me as I stuck the short candles in the cake and lit them one by one. Gemma sang a song, and Tidus joined her, but I didn’t know the words or tune. Not that it was particularly difficult, but I would have to wait until next year to sing.

Tidus stood next to me and held the cake. The candlelight shone yellow in his light brown hair.

“Auron, thank you so much!” His voice was sincere, and happy. A relief.

“I’m sorry the cake is so ugly,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the wax dropping onto the already mottled surface.

“It’s not- well… but it looks really good though!”

“I’ve heard you’re supposed to make a wish,” I said.

Gemma mentioned that the wish was a very old custom, nearly forgotten now. Blowing out the candles was meant to signify bidding farewell to the previous years they represented and heading into the next year with a fresh outlook.

Tidus looked up at me, and then to the candles, and blew all three of them out with one breath.

The cake was actually very delicious, much to my satisfaction. Gemma said it might be a bit too sweet, but I thought it was just right, as did Tidus.

“Can I open it? Please? Pleeeeease?” Tidus poked at the present, and I nodded. He tore into it fiercely, revealing a brand new blitzball, as he expected. “A regulation one!! And it’s brand new!! Thank you!!” He hugged the blitzball to his chest, and laughed out loud.

As the evening went on, I felt a chill, and went to retrieve my favourite blanket from my bedroom. I stopped in the hallway when I heard Gemma say my name.

“Auron worked hard to get you that ball, you know.”

“This is the best one! It’s awesome!”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah! He’s cool. Sometimes he seems really sad though. So I wished—“ I heard a funny sound, and assumed he clapped his hand to his mouth. He lowered his voice. “You’re not supposed to tell your wish or it doesn’t come true, right?”

“I’ll keep it a secret,” Gemma said conspiratorially.

“Okay.” Tidus moved, and said in almost a whisper. “I wished that he would be happy.”

“That’s a wonderful wish,” Gemma said.

I felt a pressure in my chest. I wanted to cry. But not from my memories, or the ever-gripping sadness that clung to me.

I was happy.


	10. Happy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a stupid amount of timeline research and business about the pilgrimages, and suffice it to say, I think I actually got a handle on Spira's size and geography. Feel free to send a message if you want any of my notes! Or any other questions about timeline stuff. If there's any doubt about when I think things happened, trust me, I definitely have a reasoning. Haha TToTT  
> Interestingly, the idea that Braska's pilgrimage started in Bevelle, and he essentially went backwards from how Yuna did hers is actually reasonably supported by the Jecht Spheres.

 

It couldn’t last. Of course it couldn’t.

I lay in bed for hours that night, trying to preserve the warm feeling in my chest. I focused on it, and shaped it into something tangible. Something I could use to renew my faith when it faltered. Something that would give me armour when my memories attacked again.

I tried to keep it from becoming tainted. But I shouldn’t be allowed to be happy, not when Jecht is suffering in his cursed life. Happiness was for the living.

Not for me.

I existed for nearly a month in Braska’s Calm before I realised I didn’t belong with the happy people that clamoured around me. They would ask me questions I didn’t have the answers to. I wandered, but where did I begin wandering?

We defeated Sin. That much I knew. I had the faintest memory of Braska’s face, disappearing into pyreflies. Everything else was a confusing blur. The pilgrimage, the summoning, all of it. Where had I been all that time? I remembered arriving in Bevelle, and collapsing on the outskirts of the city. I remember speaking to someone, confirming the suspicions that Braska’s Calm had come.

The streets of Bevelle had never been kind to me, but I found them unbearable in the Calm. People told me that High Summoner Braska’s daughter had disappeared the night I arrived in the city. I wondered where she had gone. I was supposed to take her to Besaid. I had to protect her.

No. What good would I be? I failed her father. Now I’m reaping praise for it. How could I dare to pretend to be her guardian? I would only fail her too, and she would die, and everyone would celebrate her blood on my hands. My hands that were shaking, that pressed against my dirty face, that held in all the tears and blood and vomit that I was.

I avoided crowds, and hid my face. I frequented only the most out of the way taverns. People still recognised me, and shook my hand, smiling and addressing me in that way that made me physically sick. Alcohol swirled on my breath as I hissed them away.

Whispers tracked my steps. “Legendary guardian. There he is. What an honour. Go talk to him! Amazing. The legendary guardian.” Their words brought bile to my throat, and I ran. I ran until I spilled everything inside of me.

It came to the point that I stopped eating altogether to save the trouble later.

More than once, when I was awakening from a drunken stupor, I thought I saw Braska, coming to help me, as he did before. I reached for him, smiling, until I realised it was some Yevonite. Cursing, I swatted their hands away.

I drank. My jug of nog was never empty.

_But didn’t it break?_

I had nothing left.

_Didn’t I promise someone…?_

Everything was confusing. I remember Braska, I remember his smile. We had a friend… Someone I grew to love as a brother. His name…?

_Jecht._

I’d forgotten him. I said his name, over and over. Like a meditation.

I deserve to die. What am I that I should live, when those two brave men should die?

I promised Jecht. I would have to find his son. The only unmapped place was the sea. Jecht’s Zanarkand must surely be there. I would go there.

The sand was wet, and cold, but I crawled across it, as if I were falling down Gagazet again. I wanted to die. Let it be drowning.

_Let me just die. Let me succumb on the mountain and the ocean, and be stone like the fayth._

My arm snapped, and dragged behind me as I continued to crawl into the waves. I remembered Yunalesca. An invisible force slashed down my face and body, and blood frothed with the inky water. My vision halved. I’ll remember these wounds, I’ll die again and again until I stay gone. I’ll be like Sin. Perhaps I can die enough that I will atone for what I’ve done, and who I’ve forgotten.

The clarity of what happened was a slap across the face. Jecht and Braska, they died, and I ran back to that woman that made it happen. She struck me down. I returned to Bevelle, and… and? I wandered, drunk and volatile. Dishonouring their memories. There was no low to which I wouldn’t sink.

 _Jecht._ I thought his name, admonishing myself for forgetting. I fell into the waves, and let them take me, murmuring apologies and wishing for sleep like death.

I breathed water, and let the cold take me, slipping beneath the surface.

Something cradled my head, and cleared the hair from my eyes. It sounded like someone was crying. Whoever was crying wouldn’t let me go. It felt strange, as if they had too many hands.

I broke the surface, pushed up from underneath. The force knocked the water from my lungs, and I coughed and sputtered. The hands felt too large, and I recalled a similar sensation in the Calm Lands. This was Jecht.

The sound of the waves and the smell of the sea, a warm presence. I looked up, squinting at the whirling lights above me. The stars were bright, and I reached up, wondering if I could ascend to them, to where Braska was.

I felt as if I were in a warrior’s funeral, set out to sea. The stars would fall and set me ablaze.

Braska above me, and Jecht below. I could find peace here. I wished they would stay with me, on the sea.

Jecht spoke to me, softly, encouragingly. “Stay awake, Auron. Why’d you have to go and- ah, it’s too late for dumb questions, isn’t it?”

“Jecht… I’m sorry,” I curled up on my side, and gripped the uneven scales of my morbid ferry. My eye burned. I blamed it on the salt water.

“You shouldn’t have gone there on your own,” Jecht said, rubbing my back. I didn’t look to see what was really touching my back. I knew it wouldn’t look like him. But it was him all the same. “Ah, Auron, I didn’t want you to… hm.” The creature shuddered, and I got the sense it was crying.

I was silent, trying to ignore the pain I felt with every slight movement beneath me.

“I’m gonna take you somewhere safe, but you’re… you’re gonna keep your promise, right?”

“Yes,” I said. Truthfully, I wanted to just close my eyes and forget everything. Forget what I saw and did, and just sleep.

“Can you give me more time?”

“Time?”

“I’m just figuring things out. I need more time to work out what we’re gonna do. Can you live until then, and wait?”

“Yes.” I knew I was condemning myself to loneliness. To regret, and pain, and longing. But I’d already failed Braska and Jecht once, twice, countless times. I couldn’t deny Jecht when he asked me directly.

His suffering was far worse than mine.

For his sake, I can’t keep this warm feeling. I don’t deserve the love of his son. I fell into restless sleep, dreaming of storms at sea and the taste of salt.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He’s destroying himself._

_We needn’t have interfered._

_We only have to wait._

_He is stronger than you know. You fools will see sense._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Auron! Wake up! Let’s go to the beach today! There’s a carnival!” Tidus sprang onto my bed, holding his new blitzball. He’d already opened the curtains, and sunlight splashed over my face.

I groaned, and rolled away from him, which only seemed to spur him on. “Come on, sleepyhead! Don’t you wanna see how nice this new ball is?”

I pressed my good eye into the pillow, blocking out the bright sunlight. I didn’t deserve his smiles, his light. His happiness pierced me, tying knots around my heart. I don’t deserve any of this.

Tidus seemed to pick up on my somber mood, and calmed himself. “Hey, Auron… Are you okay?” His voice was soft, all the excitement drained in an instant. I was responsible for dulling his shine. This cheerful boy… I owed him a debt as great as the one owed to his father. They contradicted one another. I wanted to be happy for Tidus’ sake, but felt I shouldn’t be for Jecht’s.

Tidus’ small hand rested on my back, and traced over the ugly scars. “Did you have bad dreams again?”

I said nothing. The bad dreams I may have had were only my own thoughts.

“We don’t have to go to the beach today,” he said, disappointment edging into his voice. “It’s okay.”

I imagine he must have said something similar to his mother on more than one occasion. I didn’t want to be like that. She gave up.

The realisation shattered in my mind.

I was on the verge of giving up.

What I think I deserve is not what I will get. It’s not up to me to decide that. My life, my very existence is to protect this boy. I will guard his smile, and whatever comes to me in return is what I deserve.

That is the only truth for me. To be a guardian.

I sat up, and apparently startled him. He was about to speak, when I pulled him into a tight embrace, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

“Let’s go,” I said, my voice betraying more emotion than I intended. “Let’s go to the beach.”

Tidus nodded vigorously, and patted my back a few times. I released him, and avoided his gaze as he drew back. He angled himself into my line of sight, and I caught his eye.

“You’re really okay?”

I nodded, and managed the smallest of smiles.

He beamed in return, and leapt off the bed, snatching up his ball. “This one is way better than my dumb old one! It bounces extra far!” He slammed it onto the ground, and it bounced with such force that it hit the ceiling and plummeted back onto the floor and rolled out the door. Tidus ran after it, yelling back to me. “I’ll bring you cereal, okay?”

“Alright,” I answered, and settled back into bed, propping up the pillows behind me. From this position, I could see the water, sparkling clear and beautiful. Tidus’ mother must have watched this scenery for hours. I couldn’t become like that. How easy it would be to wallow in it, to become quiet, silently raging.

It might take more strength to smile. For Jecht, and for Tidus, I would.

Tidus joined me after a few minutes, holding two bowls of cereal that were very nearly overflowing. I ate in silence, and listened to him enthuse about the new ball. Apparently, this ball was far superior to his old one, in terms of colour, and general bounciness.

Tidus seemed keen to keep me in high spirits, and chattered animatedly about things he hoped to see at the beach today. There was to be a carnival near the fishing pier today, and many of his classmates were going to be there.

I felt apprehensive about a situation like that since the library, but I had more confidence that I wouldn’t be ambushed by that word.

Guardian. My resolve turned the word around, and it was my strength now. A seemingly small accomplishment, but one I required.

Tidus rummaged through the wardrobe, and eventually pulled out a few articles of clothing for me to wear. “Here! It’s bright and happy!” He had selected a shirt I certainly would never have chosen, bright blue with a pattern of flowers and ships. Maybe it was a sign to cheer up. Jecht would certainly laugh at me.

Gemma was waiting on the pier as we left the houseboat, and obviously noted the brightness of my outfit, but thankfully made no comment. She was wearing an unusual outfit as well, all purple with an enormous red hat.

There were more people on the pier than I had ever seen, and we quickly fell into the flow of the crowd.

Gemma took my arm, and Tidus grabbed my other hand, and we walked as a unit, with me squashed between the two of them sometimes.

Colourful balloons marked the path to the carnival, and Tidus bobbed up and down in the same manner. “Let’s get cotton candy, Auron!” He exclaimed, pointing to a cart where a man was selling what looked like pastel clouds.

“What is that?” I asked Gemma quietly.

“Spun sugar. I don’t much care for it, but I’m sure you’ll love it.”

I dropped some of the money I had earned from Gemma into Tidus’ outstretched hand, and he dashed to the cart, pointing excitedly at the spun sugar clouds. He brought two back, one pink and one blue, and we continued on. The cotton candy was delicious.

I still felt my smile was insincere, but I was doing my best. Tidus didn’t seem to notice, and was uncontainably excited.

He wanted to play a few of the midway games, and Gemma and I sat on a nearby bench while he waited in the queue. Gemma pulled a fan from her handbag, and fanned herself at an angle so that some of the wind cooled me as well.

“How are you, Auron?” Her question wasn’t meant to be small talk.

“I’m conflicted,” I answered honestly.

“I can tell. Your expression is all mixed up. Your smile is held back today.”

Tidus was up next in the carnival game, and waved at me. I waved back, and he thrust his chin out with bravado, turning to the game and taking aim.

“I… I don’t know if this is fair,” I said slowly. “That I am here, and Jecht is not.”

“Fair doesn’t have much to do with it. You are here, and he isn’t, and you really ought to make the best of it. You’re trying to repent for something that was out of your control.”

I wondered what she was referring to, and I began to speak when Tidus cheered loudly. The game attendant was reaching for a prize, what looked like a Moogle toy, but smaller.

Tidus dashed back to us, triumphantly brandishing the small toy. “Look! First try! Can I have more gil to play again?”

“Perhaps we should see what else there is,” I said. Tidus was fine with that decision, and tied the Moogle to the lunch bag we had brought.

He played each game along the pier until he had won something from each stall. It took a surprisingly few number of attempts at each one. He really was coordinated. He was most excited about a video sphere, and recorded Gemma and I excitedly, exclaiming that he’d always wanted one.

There were machina set up in a large courtyard, and people were paying to ride them. I wasn’t sure for what reason, but they all looked like they were having fun.

“They have the elephant ride, Auron!” Tidus yelled, pointing wildly at one of the largest contraptions. Machina that resembled shoopufs were attached to a complicated looking base, and were apparently meant to mimic flying. “That’s my favourite one! It’s goes up so high and it’s really fast! Can we go?”

I nodded, trying not to let my awe and confusion show too much. Before too long, we were getting seated on the contraption, and I was steadily becoming more uncomfortable. Tidus was excited though, and Gemma gave me an encouraging wave from below.

The attendant frowned at me. “Aren’t you a little tall for this ride?”

I looked at Tidus for help, and he shrugged. “Aren’t you a little grumpy for a carnival person?” he asked.

The attendant looked less than impressed, and fastened our safety belts.

The ride began with a sudden lurch, and I jumped in surprise. Tidus laughed.

“Don’t be a scaredy-cat, Auron!” Tidus said, nudging my shoulder. “This is an awesome ride!”

It wasn’t. It certainly wasn’t. The spinning was confusing, and my vision blurred, as if my eye was detaching from inside my head. It felt as if I was coming apart, and I struggled to maintain my composure. I was nearly to the point when it was unbearable, and then the ride stopped, and the carts began to lower. Before the attendant was there to detach our safety belts, I removed it, and tumbled from the cart.

My legs didn’t work properly, and I zigzagged across the courtyard, until I lost my balance completely and fell onto a nearby trashcan, halfway crushing it. I tried to get up, but my mind wouldn’t focus. It was dizziness to the highest degree, and I couldn’t right myself despite my best efforts. I heard a few amused laughs from nearby, and became aware that the surrounding crowd was watching me.

Tidus was at my side suddenly, a blurry mess. “The man was mad you didn’t wait, Auron. What’s wrong?”

I still felt like I was spinning. I moved to a sitting position, leaning against a pier. I clapped my hand to my forehead, trying to still myself.

“You don’t like spinny rides, huh?”

I think I shook my head, but I couldn’t be sure. Tidus dug in the bag for a moment, and pulled out a few gil.

“I’ll get you some water, okay? Don’t move, and don’t think about spinning!”

Gemma joined me after a few seconds, and righted the trashcan. “Causing a bit of a scene, hm?” She sat down, and fanned me. “Understandable, I suppose. You’ve never been on something that moved like that before, I take it?”

“No,” I said, feeling queasy.

“Should probably avoid things like that in future, I think. That body of yours can’t take the force.” I assumed she meant the pyreflies, and it was true, I could feel them tingling under my skin.

“Here’s water, Auron!” Tidus returned, holding several bottles of clear cold water. Gratefully, I took one, and downed nearly half of it. “Maybe the elephant ride was a little too much for your first ride of the day, huh?”

I finally regained my vision, and tried to smile to dispel Tidus’ concerned face. “Maybe,” I said. “Is there something else we could do for a while?”

“There’s a group of musicians near the beach,” Gemma suggested. “We could have our lunch there.”

Lunch didn’t sound ideal, but sitting near the beach did. I was still walking around drunkenly, and Gemma and Tidus seemed to find it funny, making a game out of keeping me balanced.

Eventually, after some friendly teasing, I flopped down on the beach, sighing deeply. The sky was cloudless blue, and the sun was hot. Gemma’s hat provided some shade, but not much. She took it off, and set it over my face.

I sat up, and lifted the brim of the hat. She had gone to get an umbrella from the pier. I followed her progress as she dumped a generous amount of money in the jar near the musicians.

Once we were set up in a comfortable shady place, I finally relaxed.

“Auron, some of my friends wanna blitz, can I go play?”

“Yes, but don’t go too far.”

“Okay!” Tidus dashed off, holding his new blitzball aloft for the group of awaiting children to see.

“I’m happy you’re trying so hard, Auron,” Gemma said, shifting her feet in the sand. I noticed she had painted her toenails bright purple to match her outfit. “You may not think so, but I think you deserve to be happy.”

I said nothing, and looked out to the sea. It would forever remind me of Jecht. He asked me to smile that day, and he said:

_Ah, you’ll get it eventually._

I have smiled sincerely since I arrived here. It was hard not to when surrounded by Tidus’ exuberance. He made me laugh, a smile that bursts.

Gemma sighed, and poured us some tea from the odd bottle that kept it hot. “Nobody expects you to be happy every day, though. If it’s too difficult, neither of us will fault you for it. As terrible as it is, Tidus is used to that sort of thing.”

I accepted the tea, breathing in the spicy scent and the tang of seawater.

It was like the beach at Besaid. Braska had just forged a pact with Valefor, and as such, his pilgrimage was nearly finished. Now came the long journey back to Zanarkand. Braska’s pilgrimage was unconventional. Usually the summoners would travel to Besaid, and finish the last of their training there before setting out. There were rumours that was because Valefor was the most accepting fayth, and was easiest to form a pact with, but I had no idea if that was true.

Braska’s first aeon was Bahamut, in Bevelle, much to the dismay of the Maesters.

They always looked at me with contempt after my excommunication, but it was even more potent after I joined Braska. How far I had fallen from their grace. A skilled warrior monk, after years of devotion and steady promotion, dismissed and taking up with the heretic that defiled the church and the drunken man who was caught urinating on the statue of Lady Yocun. It was almost laughable.

And then my summoner had the audacity to make a pact with the most powerful of the aeons first. It was a rude hand gesture at the entire system.

We really were all meant to be friends.

Braska reflected on the circumstances that we all met when we were in Besaid. He was standing in the turquoise waters, with his pants rolled up to the knees. He had removed his overlarge robe, it was completely unfit for the tropical heat of Besaid. I was lurking in the shade, fully clothed, with my sword across my lap.

“The water is lovely, Auron.”

“My Lord.”

“Come join me, won’t you?”

“I’ll… keep watch, my Lord.”

“There are no fiends for quite a distance, my friend. Relax.”

I looked around, focusing on Jecht in the distance bouncing a blitzball on his head to the delight of the village children. He could always be counted on to bring joy to others. He was always enthusiastic around children, I think perhaps he wanted to make up for the way he treated Tidus, if only in his own heart.

“Auron, please. We may not have another opportunity to enjoy ourselves for a long while.”

I conceded, as I always did when Braska asked me to do anything. I set my sword aside, and walked to the water’s edge. The tide touched my boot, and I stepped back.

Braska laughed, and tilted his head. “My friend, perhaps you should dress more appropriately for the water.”

I pressed my lips into a hard line, and Braska laughed again. “I won’t force you, but you look much too hot.”

It was true, the sun was blazing hot on my chestplate, and I could feel my feet sweating in my boots. The breeze tempted me, but my many layers allowed it no purchase.

“There are Crusaders on patrol all around us, and it’s a beautiful day. Surely you can afford yourself a few moments of relaxation?”

Again, I conceded to him, and returned to my sword, and kicked off my boots. The shady sand was cool and felt wonderful, even if I was reluctant to admit it. When I removed my gauntlet and guard, the breeze twirled through my fingers, cooling me refreshingly where I had been sweating through my glove.

Fully realising the truth of Braska’s words, I unbuckled my belt, and shrugged out of my robe. I felt a bit uncomfortable removing my chestplate; usually I only took it off to sleep, and not even then, most nights.

I would feel too vulnerable, I thought.

I shook my head, and thought of how nice the wind would feel against my bare chest. I folded my clothes carefully, and placed my chestplate on top, in case I needed it quickly.

Braska had wandered down the shoreline a bit, but turned when he noticed I had joined him.

I waded out to him, and he smiled. “Ah, Auron! It’s nice, isn’t it?”

“It is,” I said, looking out to the endless sea. The sun was warm on my skin, and Braska’s smile filled me with happiness. I could hear laughter in the distance, and some whooping calls.

Braska considered me, and stood close enough that our shoulders touched. “You’ve got gold in your hair, in the sun. Did you know—“

Braska’s words were cut short when I noticed something attacking out of my peripheral. I pivoted, and Jecht’s blitzball smashed me hard in the side of the head, and knocked me directly into Braska and then down into the water in a tangle of limbs. I struggled to right myself, coughing and sputtering and ready to throw any number of curses in Jecht’s direction until I remembered he was surrounded by children. Braska resurfaced beside me, laughing fit to burst. It was too genuine for me to not join him. I could hear Jecht’s laugh from afar and hurled the blitzball back at him. He caught it, but it stung his hand and he shook his fist. I shook mine back amiably, and helped Braska to his feet.

“I am so grateful to you, Auron.”

“My Lord?”

“I am honoured that you protect me the way you do. I’m happy.”

“I am too, my- Braska.”

This beach is different than Besaid’s, but I believe I can be happy here.

“Auron, can we go on the elephant ride again?” Tidus was standing before me, eyes alight.

“I’m too tall for that one. They won’t let me on again.” That, among other things. I looked back at the carnival, noticing a large slow-moving machina. “What about… the big wheel?”

“That ride is for babies!” Tidus put his hands on his hips, and pouted. “And old people!”

“Well, I’m going,” I said, getting up and dusting the sand off me. Both Gemma and Tidus seemed surprised at my motivation.

“Well, I’ll go too then!” Tidus handed his ball to Gemma. “Can you keep this super safe?”

“Certainly,” Gemma said, tossing the ball in the air. “But only if I can play with it.”

Before Tidus and I arrived at the large machina, we stopped to get ice cream. Jecht had made a concoction similar to it once, but, like most things from Zanarkand he tried to replicate, it wasn’t much of a success.

I liked ice cream. Especially with chocolate.

“Auron, are you happy?” Tidus asked, watching me devour my ice cream. I assumed he was checking to see if his wish came true. I had been through many conflicting feelings today, but right now…

“Yes,” I said. Here with Tidus on an uncomfortable bench, in the midst of carnival lights and the smell of the sea and innumerable food scents. After the turmoil, and the indecision, and the guilt, right now, I was happy. It would be another precious memory to remember in my dark moments.

We continued on, with Tidus on my shoulders so he could focus on eating his ice cream.

I’ll stay in this Zanarkand. I’ll keep my promise, and I’ll smile.

_Hey, you got it!_

_ _


	11. Image

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He is peaceful._

_He is lying._

_He is living._

_He deserves this life._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

The sun rose and fell, over and over.

Tidus has grown, and his hair has lightened considerably, as if the sun itself followed him around. His disposition is as sunny as ever too, particularly since he’s switched schools to a specialized one for Blitz players.

It’s been… eight years.

Eight years of laughter, sadness, anger, and the tears that follow. Wounds have healed, and I can smile without my scar hurting.

I can feel myself becoming idle, lazily looking out to the ocean with the aura of the old. I often wondered how the elders in the temple could merely sit and gaze at the sea and sky. I used to feel restless, even in meditation, but now I can appreciate the slow passing of days in stillness and silence.

At least until I drew nearer the Blitz stadium where Tidus’ classes took place. That area of the city was decidedly youthful, full of bright colours, and loud music. Tidus thrived in that environment, but I found it distracting. My vision was halved as it was, and the neon lights made it hard to focus. The music completely overwhelmed any other noise, and I felt oddly vulnerable.

The first time we went there, there was also something I didn’t expect to see.

The practiced prayer of Yevon. People used it, laughing and smiling. Inexplicably, the sight of it struck me with rage. I thought I was far from Yevon’s presence. That I could live the rest of my days with Tidus without that looming spectre. The movements that pledged allegiance, that celebrated death. The prayer to Yevon, perpetuator of the cycle that took my friends from me. The prayer that consumed my life, that mocked my pointless devotions.

I _never_ wanted to see it again.

The girl Aria ran up to us and did the prayer. My arms jerked to return it automatically, but I folded my arms instead, and nodded. My teeth ground together, and Tidus gave me a confused look.

I shook off the feeling when we watched the Blitz game. The second game I had ever seen -the first in Zanarkand- was with Tidus, a few months after I had arrived. Braska, Jecht, and I had seen a game in Luca, and the rampant excitement of the crowd cheered me then, and it still did.

Even watching Tidus’ scrummages, or whatever he called them was exciting. He seemed moderately embarrassed that I attended each one. Sometimes I was the only one in the stands.

His teammates seemed to like me well enough, and would always give me the prayer. The blitz sign for victory. In Spira, it had a more sanctimonious meaning. I had been meaning to ask Gemma about it, but she had been mysteriously absent more often than not.

After a few uncomfortable exchanges with the prayer, I had taken to wearing my arm in my half-open sweater, and feigned injury. My left arm always gave me trouble anyway, and the false injury wasn’t hard to sell.

Tidus said nothing of it, but I did notice he wouldn’t attempt to give me the prayer any longer.

I was always glad when it was time to return to the docks and the calm sea.

With the encouragement of Gemma, I’ve acquired what she called ‘hobbies’. Such a sedentary lifestyle was at odds with what I was accustomed to, and having no schedule made me aware of how many hours were in a day.

She suggested I find something to do. I had started to frequent the library. The strange librarian, whose name I eventually learned was Kai, always got me to put books away. At the beginning, I was slow, and often he would follow me and correct their placement. Now, I know precisely where each book goes.

I’ve also taken up drawing. It was a skill I had never found particularly important. As a young acolyte, I would spend my free hour sketching anything that happened to be nearby. Later on, my free hour was consumed in more training. I thought about it again when Braska, Jecht and I were journeying together.

“Auron, are you busy?”

I looked up from my sword, my attention switched completely as Braska addressed me. “My Lord? What can I do for you?”

“Ah, not for me. Jecht was wondering if you might do something for him.”

I could feel my face drop into a frown, and Braska flapped his hands.

“Something for Jecht’s son in Zanarkand, that is,” Braska said. “He’s started a journal. Oh, here he comes.”

Jecht came up the path, still looking apologetic. I was still angry about the shoopuf, but I didn’t like how he looked like a kicked dog around me.

“What can I do for you, Jecht?” I asked. In my attempts to sound genial, I merely sounded more irritated.

“Well, uh.” Jecht scratched the back of his head, and thrust a sheaf of papers at me. “Could you write something in here? Maybe draw a Hypello for my kid?”

I took the papers, and looked over the pages he already had. My eyes narrowed as I noticed he had misspelled my name on the first page and drawn a rather unpretty caricature of me. The one of Braska was comical though.

Braska’s writing followed, and I softened my gaze. Jecht really did miss his boy. His earnestness to return to him was obvious when I looked at their writing.

Both of them had attempted to draw Shoopufs and Hypellos. I enjoyed the drawings, and a smile touched my lips.

Jecht nudged a short pencil into my hand, and I sat back, and wrote a short note to Tidus.

“Thanks. And… and a Hypello there,” Jecht said, pointing to the blank space beneath my note. “If you don’t mind.”

I thought a moment, conjuring up an image of a Hypello in my mind’s eye, and then sketched one roughly.

Jecht and Braska both looked impressed, but I wasn’t sure why. I wasn’t any good at drawing.

After I recalled that memory, I searched for the pages Jecht had entrusted to me. They were buried deep in a pocket in my robe. The papers were crumpled and burnt, but were still mostly legible. My knees grew weak as I traced the letters, murmuring the words to myself, and I sank down onto my bed. I reread it countless times, lingering over where they signed their names. The papers brought me comfort; I couldn’t believe it took eight years to search for them.

“Auron!” Tidus called out, his steps heavy as he arrived home. “I’m going out with the team, kay?”

“Ah, yes,” I said, and met him at the bedroom door. He was taller now, and didn’t greet me with as much cheer. “When will you return?”

He shrugged, and I frowned a bit.

“I dunno. We’re just gonna go hang out,” he said, his gaze falling on the papers in my hand. “What’s that? Looks like it’s been through the mill.”

“It’s—“ I began, eager to show him, but he shrugged again and turned away.

“I gotta go.”

“Ah…” I lifted my hand to stop him, but let it fall to my side, suddenly missing the young boy he used to be. Loneliness pressed on my chest, and the papers made it all the worse.

My time had steadily become more solitary here, as Tidus grew older. I was becoming unnecessary.

What was the point of me if I wasn’t of service to someone?

The pyreflies under my skin buzzed, and I could see the floor through my feet. Focus. Remember your promise.

_I’ll guard him with my life._

Even if this loneliness makes me want to fall apart. Even if all I see of Tidus is his retreating back, I will wait here. I will be a home to return to.

I needed something else to focus on, and I rummaged through Tidus’ abandoned craft box until I found a sketchbook and pencils.

I thought about that happy boy who was always excited to see me, who grabbed for my hand with sticky fingers, and hugged me freely. It was like I was mourning the loss of someone, even though he was still here.

I miss him.

Uncertainly, I began drawing, and summoned an image of that boy out of the paper. The curve of his cheek, the bend of his nose. The ever present sparkle in his eyes. He smiled at me, from eight years ago, and my heart was at peace.

I fell asleep on the sofa, with the sketchbook still on my lap. Distantly, I heard the pencil drop to the floor.

I was startled awake by loud voices nearby, and sat up, blinking quickly.

“Oh, whoops,” Tidus laughed. “Sorry, Auron!” A few snickers followed, and I noticed Tidus’ friends gathered around the stairwell. Five of them. I could only recall the name of one, the girl Aria.

I stood up, and the sketchbook slid to the floor. I cleared my throat. “Are you finished ‘hanging up?” I asked.

“Hanging _out_ ,” Tidus corrected, and his friends laughed, save Aria, who simply stared at me. My glasses were on the kitchen table, and I crossed the room to get them. Aria looked away when I put my glasses on, perhaps she’d realised she had been staring.

“We’re just gonna watch some spheres and eat snacks, okay?” Tidus flopped down on the sofa, his foot resting on the sketchbook. He reached down and picked it up; it was still open to the drawing I had just done.

One of the boys took notice, and snatched it from him. “Aww, look at baby Tidus! Cuuuuuute,” he said mockingly.

Tidus’ face burned crimson, and he snatched it back, flipping it shut and tossing it on the coffee table. “Whatever, Devin! At least I was cute, you’ve always been ugly!”

From what I understood of preteen aggression, a fist fight was imminent.

Devin stomped over to the stairwell, and I thought he was about to leave, when he unexpectedly whipped a blitzball directly at Tidus. Tidus dodged it easily, and instead it smashed into the bookshelf, knocking a number of books off, which fell and crushed my tomato plant with an audible crunch. Tidus advanced on him, and Devin threw another ball, which Tidus fiercely kicked away, only for it to hit me right in the face with another crunch. My glasses flew off, and skittered under the sofa. I could feel a hot trickle of blood flowing down my nose.

There was a tense silence, and then Tidus launched himself at Devin, swinging his fist directly into his teeth.

I reacted instantly, grabbing both of them by the backs of their shirts and separating them. They were still attempting to fight, thrashing against me and kicking at each other, yelling what I assumed to be Zanarkandian profanities.

“Enough,” I said, my voice little more than a growl. I glowered at Devin, and he trembled, with a cut lip and wide eyes. “Leave.”

I dropped him, and he hurried up the stairs, stopping only to gather his things. Apparently the blitzballs he had thrown belonged to his teammates.

The others slowly filtered out as I tended to my nosebleed in the kitchen, murmuring farewells and hushed words to Tidus.

It wasn’t much of a nosebleed, but enough to warrant a dishcloth to stem the flow.

Aria approached me apprehensively, and held my glasses out to me. They were fortunately in one piece. She must have fished them out from under the sofa. Her dark hair curled around her face, and she smelled of chlorine, like Tidus.

“Thank you,” I said, taking them from her gently. She nodded quickly, and then followed after her friends.

When my nose had stopped bleeding, I returned to the living room and watched as Tidus picked the books off of the tomato plant. The plant underneath was bent and twisted, and one of the tomatoes had fallen off completely.

His face was red and his eyes were glossy as he tried to right it. I knelt beside him, and retrieved a long paintbrush and a length of yarn from the craft box. He sat back as I repaired the plant with paintbrushes and yarn, and after a moment, he sniffed.

I turned, and he was already wiping his eyes, looking furious at himself. “I’m sorry, Auron.”

“Hm,” I sighed.

“Are you… are you okay?”

A dull pain settled behind my nose, but I nodded. “I’ll be fine.” I turned my attention to him fully. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Tidus shook his head, his frown deepening. “He’s too slow and stupid.”

“Hm.” I stood, shrugging at the plant. “I think I will go to bed now.” I started towards my bedroom. Tidus hopped up, and grabbed my wrist. I must have looked angry, because he let go when he met my gaze.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, Auron,” he said, looking down. “I won’t be friends with him anymore.”

“That’s not my business,” I said. “What concerns me is your safety, which I agree would be more assured without him as a friend.”

Tidus’ lips quivered, and he looked up at me with shiny eyes. “I like your drawing.”

In an instant, I saw the young boy again, smiling tearfully at me. I sighed, and turned around, considering him carefully. As he grew older, Jecht was more obvious in the sharper edges of his face. I remembered that look after Jecht apologized for whatever foolish thing he’d done.

A tear fell from Tidus’ eyes, and I swiped it away with my thumb before he could. He stepped forward, and rested his head against my chest. I pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and he trembled.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s alright,” I said, stroking his hair.

We stayed that way for a few moments, and then he pulled away. His face was red, but cheered with a smile.

“I have something to show you,” I said, crossing to the coffee table and retrieving Jecht’s papers from the sketchbook.

We sat, and he read the papers with a small frown. His expression changed to interest as he read Braska’s note, and he looked up.

“Braska,” he said. It was strange to hear that name from someone else’s mouth. “You say that name when you have nightmares,” he said softly, without offence. Simply understanding. “You guys were friends with my old man, huh?”

My heart squeezed, and I nodded. Tidus flipped the papers over, to my brief and awkward note with the moderately decent Hypello drawing. He actually laughed, and shook his head. “You were a weird guy, Auron.”

“I think you might recall you called me weird just yesterday. And nearly every day before that.”

“Alright, you _are_ a weird guy.”

“Hm,” I said, smiling.

“Braska…” Tidus tapped his chin, looking over the gentle curves of Braska’s handwriting. “What was he like?”

“He was…” I paused. “Kind. His kindness was rare. He was my Lord.”

“Lord? Was he like a king or something?”

“No… but he was my master. I was his guardian.”

Tidus smiled a fraction at the word guardian. “Like how you’re my guardian now?”

My mind conjured a disturbing image of Tidus in my arms, bloody and broken and disappearing like Braska did in the Calm Lands. I shook my head. “Not exactly, no.”

“Were you like a servant? Like you had to bow and stuff? And call him ‘my liege’ or something?”

“My Lord,” I corrected. “That’s what I called him.”

“So when did you start calling him Braska then?”

I pondered that, running my thumb absently over the bristles on my chin. It was after the Moonflow, certainly.

“My Lord, let me.”

Braska sat back, and grimaced. “I was careless.”

I knelt, and gently pulled his boot off, cradling his leg in my other hand. His ankle was swollen to almost twice its normal size, and glistened bright red with raw wounds.

“My Lord, can you heal this?”

Beads of sweat had appeared on Braska’s upper lip, and he smiled softly. “Not until I rest a moment, I think.”

“Gah,” Jecht interjected. “Not one Ether in this entire backpack! Didn’t you get more in that last village, Auron?”

I pressed my lips together. “I- I didn’t.”

“What? Why not?” Jecht began repacking the contents of the pack, and frowned. “You were in charge of Ether, and I got Potions. And lo and behold, a pile of empty Potion bottles, and no Ether!”

“Peace, Jecht,” Braska lifted his hand, and pain twitched around his mouth. “There must have been a reason.”

There was, but I felt foolish about it, given the current circumstances. I kept my eyes down as I spoke. “They had a limited supply, and there was a sore sickness in that village. It felt wrong to rob their healers.”

“Rob them, huh?” Jecht huffed out a sigh, and flopped back on the sandy earth. “Cause we don’t have money…”

“Donations from the people have been more than enough since then,” Braska said, referring to the incident with the shoopuf. He was pale, and his breathing was laboured, but kept his placid smile firmly in place. “We will be fine, of course.”

“My Lord,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?” I felt useless in this kind of situation. I had no real skills in healing magics, and my first aid was rudimentary at best.

Braska smiled, but said nothing.

“Well, you guys said that next temple is just up the road, huh? Jonesy or something?”

“Djose,” I corrected automatically. Jecht’s tenuous grasp of Spiran locations always sparked irritation in me, but I was making an effort to keep it in check. With all his bluster and confidence, and the fact that it had been long enough for Sin’s toxin to completely wear off, I found myself believing his story. It really was the most plausible explanation for his oddities.

“Well then, why don’t we just hoof it the rest of the way, huh?” Jecht slapped his knees, and rolled back into a sitting position. “Think we can get there before night?”

I considered the position of the sun, and nodded. “I believe so, if we keep a steady pace.”

“Well, then!” Jecht stood, and gathered up our things. “I’ll carry the stuff, and you carry artichoke boy there.”

Realising he was referring to Braska, (and undoubtedly, his unconventional robes) I was momentarily angered, and was about to reprimand Jecht for his disrespect until I saw Braska’s smile. It was genuine, affectionate, and prompted by Jecht’s humour. I wished I could have created such a smile. I only seemed to receive the false ones he gave to strangers.

Something panged in my chest, and I packed away Braska’s ruined boot, retrieving a small length of fabric from my own pack before Jecht hoisted it onto his back. The least I could do was keep the wound clean and somewhat protected. Braska hissed as I gingerly wrapped his ankle. I tried to be gentle, but he winced, and when I looked up at him, he smiled falsely again. I’d rather he frowned than see the false smile again.

He seemed to notice something was troubling me, from the way his eyebrows pulled together, but I quickly moved to carry him on my back.

We met a number of people on the road, though none of them had any healing supplies to offer us. Jecht dispatched of any fiends we came across, swinging my sword with graceless recklessness. Braska’s grip became looser, and I realised he had fallen asleep.

After about two hours, I was beginning to feel my muscles burning from carrying Braska. I said nothing, and focused instead on the ever-nearing jut of rock that was the peak of Djose Temple.

Jecht began to whistle a tune, and it awakened Braska. He mumbled something, and buried his face in my neck. His face was noticeably warm. A swirl of white magic twirled around his ankle, and he sighed.

“Hmm, Auron,” he said quietly.

“My Lord?” I asked, equally quietly.

“Thank you, I must be wearing you out.”

“Not at all, my Lord.” My voice was flat, my mind was still on his false smiles. I had hoped I would have been someone he trusted enough to be honest with.

“Auron… have I upset you?”

“No,” I said, and then shook my head, adjusting him on my back. “Perhaps.”

“What is it?”

“I… I suppose… I would like you to be more honest with me, my Lord.”

There was a long pause, and then Braska laced his fingers together over my heart. “I am sorry, Auron.” His voice was small, and tinged with guilt. “I hope my actions haven’t weighed too heavily on your heart.”

“You are never a burden to me, Braska.” I said his name without thinking, and corrected myself. “Ah, my Lord.”

“It makes me happy when you call me by my name, Auron.”

“Braska…” I said slowly, the sound lingering in my mouth. Admittedly, I did prefer using his name, but years of doctrine and discipline were difficult to forget, and disrespecting a Summoner was a high crime. I had only used his name a few times before this, and they were accidents in sleepy moments. I had corrected myself then, but now…

Yevon has no say in how I speak to this man. My friend. Braska.

“Did you remember?” Tidus asked, tilting his head to look up at me.

“Ah,” I jumped a bit, startled out of my memory. “Yes. We became friends as we travelled. He assured me it was alright to use his name.”

“Friends, hey?” Tidus nodded. “That’s cool.” He leaned his head back, and yawned.

“You should probably go to sleep.”

“You should too, you know. Old guys need more sleep.”

I felt my expression become stony, but Tidus merely laughed. “You know, if you want, I could try and make you look a little younger.”

“How do you mean?” I asked, slightly suspicious that he was going to try to dress me in his garish clothes or apply makeup.

“A haircut!” Tidus jumped to his feet, suddenly full of energy. He scooped the scissors from the craft box, and advanced on me, snipping them ominously.

“Ah-“ I leaned back, apprehensive. “Is that necessary?”

“You’ll look great! I’ll give you spikes like me! Then you’ll look way younger!”

I squinted at him, trying to imagine his haircut on my own head, and snickered a bit. “Are you sure? I might look ridiculous.”

“No, I can see it, you’re gonna look cool!”

Within seconds, he had whisked me into the kitchen and sat me down on a stool, and was combing my hair out, mumbling to himself. Jecht would do that, when he was planning something or formulating a plan. Whenever I asked him what he was saying, he’d wave me off, and I would often reply with agitation. It became a joke between us eventually. He’d mumble something, and playfully tug on my ponytail, asking if I had heard him.

Apparently reaching a conclusion, Tidus gently gathered all my hair into a bunch and brought the scissors to it.

“Wait,” I said, clamping my hand over his. “Not… not all of it.”

“You wanna keep the long stuff? It’s not really cool anymore.”

“It stays.”

Tidus shrugged, and started separating individual pieces and hacking them off. A mix of silver and black began to litter the floor around us. A few short strands dangled down my forehead, and I could feel a few tickling my ears.

After a few decisive snips, Tidus stepped back, with his hands on his hips. “There! You look way better now! Even your scruff doesn’t look so bad! Kind of a… uhhh… silver wolf…? Gemma said it one time. I can’t remember.”

I ran my fingers over the haircut, pulling the newly shortened strands experimentally. “Hmm.”

“Hmmm? Have a look!” Tidus smiled, and began sweeping up the hair.

I crossed to the mirror hanging on the closet door, and considered my reflection. With the haircut… I was hardly recognizable as the man I used to be. I looked more Zanarkandian than ever, and Tidus nodded approvingly behind me.

“Your ponytail isn’t so bad I guess. Wear it low though.”

I nodded. Tidus’ fashion advice was something I often had to take. He was a young man now, and cared more for appearances than ever. I wondered if I had embarrassed him with all his friends over.

“Welllll,” Tidus said, stretching his arms above his head. “I guess I will go to bed.” He punched my arm, and beamed. “You look good, Auron!”

“Ah, thank you.”

“Good night.”

“Good night. Sleep well.”

“You too! No nightmares, okay?”

“I’ll try.” He would wish me well like that each night. It was true, my nightmares were less frequent. His words were like a lucky charm.

This boy- young man, he’s grown up well, Jecht.

You’d like him.


	12. Crown

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Do you remember who was king?_

_I don’t remember…_

_He kept us alive… right?_

_He lost his right to the crown._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Auron…?”

I pressed my face into the pillow, wishing for just a few more moments of peace.

A hand on my shoulder.

“I had a bad dream.”

Oh. Tidus. I rolled over, finding the bright shine of his eyes in the dark. I wasn’t sure what to say, still drowsy from my sudden awakening. Sparse light slithered through the curtains and left a stain on the floor. It shone on Tidus’ face, his tears were bright white.

I sat up, and rubbed my eyes. Both of them…? I blinked, and looked around with two eyes. Something wasn’t right.

Quickly, I looked back to Tidus, who merely stared at me, with tears rolling down his face. “Auron… you’re my guardian, right?”

“Yes…” I said, reaching for him. My arms felt heavy, and Tidus stepped back, fully in the moonlight now.

“You’re my guardian…” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “And- and the people you protect… they all die.”

I could hear my heartbeat, and a lump formed in my throat. “Tidus,” I said. “What did you dream?”

“I dreamed that you killed me.”

A sick feeling grew instantly in the pit of my stomach, filling my chest with thorns. I couldn’t speak. The thorns were in my throat.

“I watched you go,” Tidus continued, hiding his face. His voice was dull, toneless. “You cried, but you left me.”

I moved to the edge of the bed, and stood, looking down at him. Tentatively, I put my hands on his shoulders, trying to be reassuring. “I’m sorry,” I choked out.

Tidus looked up, his young face full of aged scorn. That expression was wrong. It was weary, old. It reminded me of Yunalesca. Certainly not an expression Tidus should or could ever wear.

I began to speak, when he interrupted.

“You did this to me.”

Blood edged into the corners of his mouth, and then trickled down his chin. I gasped audibly, and he gripped my hands on his shoulders. A dark red flower bloomed on his chest, and he fell to his knees, pulling me down with him.

“Look at me,” he spat. “Look!”

His eyes were blue fire, and it hurt to look at him. I tried to pull my hands free of his grip, to cover the blood, to clear his face, to offer comfort. Anything. Anything but this helplessness.

“It’s your fault!” His voice was fierce now, like the shouts I heard during his practice games, but this wasn’t the same. This was hatred. “It’s your fault!”

He shouted that phrase, and I cringed each time, eventually wresting my hands away and embracing him as he slammed his fists against my chest. He was strong enough now that it was painful. He raged in my grip, and I could feel tears flowing hot and fast down my face. I murmured apologies, and gasped for breath, trying to placate his anger.

His movements slowed, and his voice faded, and then I was holding a body with no soul. His limbs were long and gangly when he stopped moving. His head was too heavy on my shoulder. His body wasn’t yet cold, but it still felt unnatural.

His eyes were still bright blue. Like the sea.

I was dizzy, my mind panicked as I tried to discern dreams from reality. This couldn’t be… it’s not…

It can’t be.

But his body…

It’s just a bad dream.

This is wet blood.

Even if it is a dream, this pain is real.

He was falling apart, splashing into the floor. I tried to speak, to wish him back together, but my voice was lost in ugly sobs.

Jecht’s son. I swore to protect him. I promised. Jecht’s son. _My_ son.

I howled like a wounded beast, gathering the scraps of my son in my arms. He was right, he was right. Everything I swore to protect is destroyed. I’m a curse.

His eyes were still blue, blue and still.

I broke.

Down.

“Auron?” The same soft voice as before. Tidus. Another dream.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I didn’t dare to look up. That dream, again? I couldn’t see that again.

“Auron, are you awake?” Tidus’ voice was soft. A lie. He just wants me to believe so he can destroy me again.

His grip was strong this time, but gentle. So gentle. Like he was afraid I would break.

“It was just a nightmare.”

I couldn’t believe I wasn’t still in a nightmare, and my hands were nearly crushing my face. I could feel long tracks left behind by my fingernails. Any moment now, he’s going to laugh, or fight, or die.

“You haven’t had one in a long time, hey?” Tidus said, kneeling at my side, and wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay.”

He was sincere.

I’m awake.

Disjointedly, I pulled my hands down, and tried to regulate my rapid breaths. I was kneeling on my bedroom floor, shivering. Everything was as it should be. The moonlight was gone, and I could only see out of one eye. The floor was clean and dry. My bones ached, and I groaned. My mind still swam, and I tried to clear my thoughts. I thought of him as my son… Guilt crashed over me, and I clamped my hands over my mouth to stop the sound scratching up my throat.

“Auron?”

“I’m sorry,” I croaked. I scrubbed at my face, embarrassment warming my cheeks.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tidus rubbed my back, leaning forward to look at my face. “You haven’t had a nightmare in a long time.”

“No…” I said. “I will be fine.” My voice was trembling as much as my hands, and I clenched them into fists, steadying myself. “You should go back to sleep. You’ve got to get up early.”

“I was awake, actually,” Tidus said, keeping his arm firmly around my shoulders. “I thought you might have a bad dream.”

Was I that weak? That I was becoming predictable? I stood hastily, and he kept his arm around me. This boy—young man, he’s so placid. I wonder how his hands became so gentle.

I didn’t want to look at his face for fear I would see blood trickle down his chin again.

He guided me back to bed, and I obeyed like a child.

“Good night, Auron. No bad dreams for sure this time, okay?”

“Good night,” I said, my voice flat and gruff. I was about to apologize when I heard my bedroom door click shut.

Suddenly, I felt crushingly alone.

I couldn’t bother Tidus with my presence. He had responsibilities, priorities that didn’t include taking care of a battered old man. A shuddering breath rumbled through my lips, and I curled up under the covers, gently tracing over the new scratches on my face.

Maybe I could wish them away and the pyreflies would take care of them. That didn’t seem to work though. There was some kind of deal struck, that I could have a body, but only with all of the troubles that came with it. There was no middle ground here.

I was cold now, from kneeling on the hard wood in nothing but my thin cotton pants. I pulled the blanket over my shoulder, and buried my head in my pillow. The empty space in my bed felt like a pit I could easily slip into. After some shuffling, I had a pretend body made of pillows and bunched up blankets next to me. If I closed my eyes, it felt like a presence.

My memories stretched back through the years and brought Braska back to me.

He was always astonishingly warm to sleep next to, and as a result would often end up in the middle whenever we shared a tent.

Jecht was unaccustomed to drafty conditions, and ice, and snow. With all his complaining I wondered what sort of luxurious home he must have had. Now I know. The structures in Zanarkand were airtight. No clever breeze could worm its way through these homes.

Jecht actually wore more clothes while he slept than any other time. He claimed it was to let the world gaze upon the beauty that was his body. Braska absolutely demanded that he put on some more appropriate clothing as we ascended Gagazet, and bartered for furs from the Ronso.

As we neared the peak, my heart cried for a solution. Braska, my friend, my Lord, was marching to his death. This gentle, kind man. He was so certain. So stalwart.

Perhaps giving his sweet spirit to Sin would finally placate the beast. There certainly was no other who could boast such purity of heart.

Braska was warm and calm next to me, and I couldn’t imagine what I would feel like to know that warmth was snuffed out forever.

The wind shrieked outside, clawing down the sides of the tent. Jecht’s snores were comforting; they almost overpowered the harsh noises of the mountain. Braska sighed softly, and turned his head, so his forehead was nearly touching mine. He was so trusting, so vulnerable. A fiend could burst in at any moment, but he’s relaxed, with his neck exposed. He trusted us to protect him.

I slowly adjusted myself to place my hand on his waist, wanting to shield him in any way I could.

Braska hummed once, and I could hear the sound of a smile parting his lips. “Auron… Jecht… Are you awake?” he whispered.

I said nothing, waiting to hear what he might say. Jecht snored on, louder for my own sharper silence.

“Thank you, both of you.”

I nodded briefly, and he chuckled a bit.

“I thought you were awake, Auron,” he said, in the softest whisper.

“My Lord,” I replied, in equal tones. Our voices were inches apart, and were barely discernible from the wind.

“I truly am grateful, Auron. I have treasured our time together.” His voice was slow, and dropped from his lips like pearls. I could tell he was nearly asleep.

“As have I,” I said. It was true. I had never laughed with such sincerity before this journey. I am a changed man. I will never be the same.

I wondered if I would die too. It was a more bearable thought than walking the world without Braska. Would I remain friends with Jecht? Could we still be together without Braska to mediate our bickering? Not that our bickering wasn’t friendly by now. I considered Jecht my brother. He jokingly called me ‘Uncle Auron’ when he talked about Tidus and Yuna. Yuna… I didn’t think I could return to her without her father.

“Hmm, you’re thinking still. Sleep,” Braska murmured.

“I… I am frightened,” I said. It was blasphemy to say such a thing to my Lord, but it was the truth. I didn’t want the morning to come for fear of what tomorrow would bring.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Braska said, his voice thick with sleep. “I’m here.”

No doubt he was so close to sleep he confused me for Yuna. It wasn’t the first time it had happened. A soft word and a gentle tug of the sleeve was enough to throw him off sometimes.

I held him tighter, and he nestled in closer to me. I wished I could reverse his course. I wished we were heading down the mountain, and returning to Bevelle.

I wished he were here with me right now.

Instead, I’m alone.

This room is so cold.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_His memories are poison._

_He should be removed._

_He is distorting our dream._

_He should be loved._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I heard Tidus leaving, and the familiar shake of the houseboat as he jumped onto the dock.

The air was freezing, and I pulled my blanket closer to me. It reminded me of the chill when I entered this room when it still belonged to Tidus’ mother. I shivered, and got up, exiting the bedroom with the blanket still wrapped around me. I fiddled with the small dial that controlled the temperature of the houseboat and found it to be at its normal setting.

Why was it so cold then?

I filled the kettle, and put on some socks while I waited for it to boil. After a moment, I began to feel as if someone or something was watching me. The windows were frosted over and I couldn’t see out.

Frost? In Zanarkand? That was a rare thing. Tidus mentioned that he had seen snow once, but only once.

A sense of unease washed over me, and I hastily armed myself with a kitchen knife. The air only got colder, and my breath was puffing through my lips in clouds. It was becoming difficult to concentrate, and I could feel the pyreflies within me slowing down. My knees shook, and I steadied myself on the kitchen table.

A feeling from eight years ago scratched down my back. The familiar frigid sting of an ice spell. A fiend? I wasn’t ready for a fight. I brandished the kitchen knife in a manner disgraceful to the warrior monks, half-delirious. If fiends were here, were they outside? Was Tidus safe?

My body lurched forward of its own accord, and my hand slipped off the edge of the table, the knife falling from my grasp.

I heard footsteps. Then the frozen feeling consumed me, and I was suspended in ice.

There was darkness, and then there was fire.

I managed to roll over, and saw a pair of muddy rubber boots, illuminated by bright fire. Looking higher, I took in the familiar silhouette of Gemma, conjuring what seemed to be an advanced fire spell. I shook the ice from my hair, and stood, looking around wildly for the knife. I spotted it, but came up short before I reached it.

Gemma had cast some kind of spell that prevented me from advancing further. The gelatinous slime of an enormous flan oozed against her barrier, and she looked fierce. The flan’s face was stretched and grotesque as it pressed against the barrier. It looked monstrously huge.

“Your sword, herald.”

I was dumbstruck momentarily, but regained myself, and hurried to my bedroom, my back completely numb.

The hilt of my treasured sword felt foreign in my hands, and I felt shame burn on my face. My instructors would spit on me for how far I’ve fallen.

Before I knew it, there was fire at my fingertips, and I leapt high, scraping my sword across the ceiling before plunging it directly in the flan’s rubbery heart with a burst of flame.

A gurgling screech filled my ears, and I felt a strangely magnetic pull towards the dead flan.

“Get back, Auron!” Gemma shouted, but I couldn’t heed her words. The flan was swirling upward as it exploded into pyreflies. The impulse to jump into the colourful lights was consuming me. Gemma shouted something again, but I couldn’t hear her, and my left hand was disappearing before my eyes. Good.

Abruptly, and painfully, I was yanked back by my hair, and thrown back from the ascending pyreflies. I crashed into the wall next to the kitchen table, and finally dropped my sword. It thumped against the floor. I’d forgotten how heavy it was.

There was a long silence, and I heard Gemma sigh deeply, before she returned to the front door and removed her muddy boots. “I’m sorry for that, sweetheart,” she said, as she helped me to my feet. She looked the same as ever.

My back began to throb, itchy with frostbite. I tried not to let it show, as Gemma seemed thoroughly distracted. It occurred to me then that I hadn’t seen her for nearly a year.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“You’re not gonna ask about the giant flan, and the fire magic, and all that?” Gemma smiled, and settled into her wicker chair next to the window. I hadn’t moved it, even though her visits were incredibly infrequent now. She lit her pipe, and looked me up and down. “Haircut, hmm?”

I waved my hand, and sat down on the sofa opposite her. “I’m more interested in what you’ve been doing. Ah… Tidus missed you.”

“Tidus did, did he?” Gemma inclined her head with a smirk. “I’ve been taking care of something important.”

“What?”

Gemma blew some smoke out the frosty window. “Hmm, pruning.”

My silence was answer enough, and she elaborated.

“This city, it’s on a loop. I spoke to you about it before. Every few years… there’re some things I have to take care of.”

“Things like what?” Her careful consideration of her words was becoming frustrating.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“There are people that reappear, that I have to… dispatch of.”

“You’ve been out killing people?” I asked. My voice came out much calmer than I expected.

“I suppose you could call it that.”

“What people?”

Gemma tapped her pipe, and focused on me. Her gaze was sharp, but kind. “This city has existed for a thousand years. A thousand years of history, and life, and stories stuck in this little box. Stagnant. It stands to reason certain ideas would be… recycled.”

“I don’t understand.”

“A singer that reappears, and meets a grisly end. It’s a scandal for a few weeks and then is forgotten until it happens again,” Gemma sighed. “A boy that should have just stayed home and played piano, instead of using his talents for destruction. That boy always seems to bring destruction.”

She almost seemed to be speaking to herself now, and I sat quietly, ignoring the pain curling over my back as I warmed up.

“I’ve got an eye on that boy this time. He’s different this time. It’ll be better this time.” Gemma’s expression grew dark, and she frowned. "It must be."

“The people you… dispatched of, Gemma. Who were they?”

“Just one,” she said. “A young artist.”

I furrowed my brow, and looked up, about to speak-

“Yunalesca.”

I pressed my lips together.

“I know you’ve met her. She had red hair this time.”

I thought back. Miss Vela? Tidus’ teacher from when I first arrived. The last time I had seen her was at Tidus’ graduation from common school. She was still wearing that heady perfume, and I felt the impulse to put as much distance between us as possible.

“A _teacher_ ,” Gemma said distastefully. “She always liked to surround herself with people that would obey her.”

“You killed her?” The thought didn’t chill me, or make me wary of Gemma, rather, I felt almost relieved.

“Yes,” Gemma said. “I only regret it took me so long to find her. I should have guessed sooner… Especially after she latched on to you.”

“And… there’s another you’re looking for?”

Gemma leaned on the arm of her chair, propping her chin up with her hand, and her blue gaze cut through me. “Do you truly want to know?”

“I’ll… I’ll help you.”

“May I tell you a story?”

“Of course.”

Gemma smiled, and took a thoughtful drag of her pipe before continuing. “Once upon a time, there was a happy city. The people lived in comfort and decadence, until one day, another city decided to stage a war. The leader of the happy city decided that they would lose, and used all his fabulous power to create a fake city, where everyone could continue on in blissful ignorance.” Her words were acidic, and her disdain was obvious. “And so everyone lived, and died, and lived again for a thousand years. And everyone else celebrated the brave leader. Praise him, praise him!” She was becoming more agitated now, and slammed her pipe down. “Praise the noble name of Yevon!”

I watched her, and she sighed, regaining her composure.

“That’s who I’ve been searching for. But he’s gotten better at hiding, that man. I’ve been looking to kill Yevon.”

My heart skipped, and I felt fear shake my bones. Yevon.

A voice slithered through my mind, laughter from the Calm Lands. A spider crawling up my spine.

“He’s particularly clever in this life. Malicious too. I heard him speak to you…” Gemma’s voice became quieter. “…in the Calm Lands.”

That disaster of a Final Summoning. Laying Braska to rest, trying to revive Jecht, fighting that _thing._ All of it was a waste. Even if I had ground that spider to a pulp then and there, wouldn’t it just revive itself here in this dream and come back? It would always come back.

Just like Sin.

Yevon is in Sin.

Yevon is Sin.

“Yu lost his mind,” Gemma said, in the same soft voice. “The real man died and was lost in his Grand Summoning. Anything you’ve seen is just the memory of him, preserved in the souls of the people of this city.”

“So… he- Sin cannot be defeated while this city stands?”

“Not permanently.”

A spasm of pain hit my back like a whip crack, and I winced visibly.

“That’s the other thing,” Gemma stood, and crossed to the pantry. She extracted the first aid kit, from where it was always kept, and opened it. It was sparse, with only a few potions and bandages left. “The fiends.”

Until now, there had only been two fiends that I had ever seen in Zanarkand, and they were both feeble things. The first was Tidus’ mother, half-transformed and utterly mad. The flan was on a completely different level.

“Shirt off, and lay down,” Gemma said. “I’ll do what I can, but you know I’m no great shakes at white magic.”

I obliged, and she dabbed a potion over my back. It was soothing, but cold.

“The fiends have started appearing all over the city. It’s been distracting.”

“Why? I’ve only seen one or two before.”

“I think your charming friend Jecht might be angry. It happens here sometimes. When Sin rages, so too does the city.”

Something was buzzing in my mind. “Gemma, may I ask-“

“You have earned every right to question me.”

“You speak as if you’ve personally seen these things happen.”

“That’s true,” Gemma said, carefully bandaging the blistered patches on my back.

“You have, then?”

“What kind of answers do you want from me, Auron?”

“Honesty. No half-truths.”

“I said before there is no other like me.”

“Yes,” I said.

Gemma draped a blanket over me, and then returned to her chair. “Perhaps I should just tell you my full name then.”

I stayed where I was, with my face half-obscured by a pillow. She suddenly had a presence that was overwhelming. It was similar to the feeling that crackled in the air when one of Braska’s aeons appeared.

“The Wielder of the Holy Judgment of Alexander, Empress of the Snowy Mountain, and Guide to the Setting Sun,” she said, with an air of self-deprecation. “The Lady Gemma Yunalesca Yevon.”


	13. Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for emetophobia, and alcohol abuse. =(

I stared. Gemma returned my gaze for a moment, and then turned her attention to the window.

“I could curtsey, if that would make that introduction more appropriate,” she said.

I shook my head, and sat forward. “You are… Yu Yevon’s… wife? Yunalesca’s mother?”

Gemma’s eyes flashed, and her lip curled. “That’s true. But I relinquished my ties with them. Now I’m just ‘some old lady who lives next door’, and that’s all I want to be.”

I felt colour rush to my face. It was almost as if she were scolding me.

“Because of you. Because of what I saw them do to _you_.”

When I was dying, I rested on the top of Gagazet. The storm was frightening. I had no idea how deep the snow was. The woman’s fayth that I rested against wore a purple dress. When I slept, it felt like I had been dreaming my entire life, and I felt more exhausted upon waking than before. That’s when Gemma watched my life.

“I saw you bow and scrape and waste your life devoted to Yu- to Yevon!” Gemma’s voice was hostile, but in my defence. “I saw your pain, and I felt it burn! That brand on your wrist, your punishment for not following the stupid demands of a false temple! I saw you follow your best friends to their deaths, and watched my daughter laugh in your face. I saw what a disgusting creature she became, when she smiled as she-!” Gemma stopped short, and took a long drag of her pipe. “She murdered you, and she smiled. My daughter.”

There was a long silence, broken when part of the ceiling cracked and fell to the floor. We both raised our eyebrows, and looked at it. There were burn marks and the kitchen was a bit of a mess.

Gemma exhaled a cloud of smoke, and her face was momentarily obscured. I looked at the floor, my fingers brushing over the scar on my wrist. I usually wore Mama’s beads and the paper bracelet Tidus had given me, but I hadn’t put them on today. They were like my armour, protecting me from the memories the brand was so eager to share. Without them, I could almost feel the burning sting of that day.

It hurt instantly. Often, it would take a few seconds before I registered pain, and I could brace myself accordingly. The brand was instantaneous. I spasmed away from it, and firm hands held me down. I collapsed to my knees and they forced my head to the stone. This stone was for beheadings. I could tell by the groove chipped away in it. The brand pressed through my skin, and deeper. I felt certain it touched the bone, and the bone would yield, and the marrow would bubble and pop, like the fiends’ bodies when we fought alongside Black Mages and their terrifying fire spells. My entire hand would fall away, and with it, any value I had to Braska.

Braska… Tears overflowed in my eyes, and I couldn’t hear the words of the Dismisser. I would follow Braska now. No temple would have me. Braska would. He would take me, useless as I would be.

Yevon was ripped from my heart that day. Until then, my devotion was my meaning. My reason. When I failed the temple, and the temple failed me, there was Braska, waiting with the sun at his back, and his hand outstretched.

Would he still have me if I couldn’t take his hand?

“Auron,” a voice said. “Auron, stop it. You’re hurting yourself.”

“Braska?” I mumbled, speaking through tears. My wrist was on fire, and the pain was unbearable. The symbol blazed bright red. Sin. I was dismissed, and was marked as Sin. “Braska, please. Make it stop…” I was pathetic. How could he want me as a guardian this way? I’d be useless with a sword. I’d be no help at all. A burden. Marked as Sin. But I had already promised him. I had to be strong. For him. But… “It hurts!” I cried, wandering the halls of the temple, and called for Braska. “Braska, my Lord. Please, my Lord. Please help me.”

“Shh, Auron.” Soothing whispers and cool hands. “Come back.”

I opened my eye, and stared at my wrist, where the brand was raw and sizzling. Fresh. Marked as Sin. Marked as Sin.

It smelled like fire. Like burned flesh and bone. No. Different. The smell of tobacco smoke. Gemma.

I took a deep breath, as if I was surfacing from underwater. I was draped over the coffee table, and Gemma’s hands were firm, as if she were trying to physically pull me out of my memories.

I allowed her to, and she somehow hefted my entire weight back onto the sofa. I still held my hand out, my fingers contorted with pain. The brand was fresh, and reeking in my skin.

“You’re in Zanarkand. It’s over,” Gemma spoke softly, and, unexpectedly she embraced me. “The pain should be over for you.”

I felt darkness edging into my vision, and I encouraged it. Anything but this.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Why do you keep interfering?_

_Let him disappear._

_Let him become the King of Fiends we see in his soul._

_No! I won’t let you take him!!!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

When I awoke next, Tidus was stomping down the stairs, talking loudly with his friends. From the light from outside, it must have been late evening. I sat up, and scrambled to grab my glasses. My right hand was useless; my wrist still surged with pain. I hurried to my bedroom, as I saw their feet appear on the stairs. I didn’t want to be an embarrassment like last time they were here.

Gemma had bandaged my wrist, and I felt the cool refreshment of a healing potion numbing it slightly. Even so, my right hand was still limp and my fingers could barely function.

I suddenly remembered the burn marks and my sword in the common area, and the general destruction in the kitchen.

Hastily, I shoved my glasses on, and swept my hair into a quick braid. I looked in the mirror, and frowned at my appearance. I hardly recognised myself anymore.

The voices of Tidus and his friends continued, apparently not acknowledging the destruction.

“Um, Tidus? Why is there a sword here?”

Ah.

Tidus spoke, trying to sound casual. “Oh, the guy who lives here with me collects stuff like that.”

“You mean Auron?” Aria asked.

“Yeah. Hang on, I’ll just put it away.” I heard the sound of Tidus straining with the sword, and he laughed. “This thing weighs a ton, damn!”

I took a deep breath, and exited my room.

“Oh, Auron!” Tidus smiled as he greeted me. He had my sword hefted up, with the point still embedded in the floor. “I didn’t know you were home.”

I nodded, and motioned for him to give me the sword. It was then I noticed bruises on his chin. “What happened?” I asked.

Tidus shrugged, and dropped the hilt of my sword into my right hand. I fumbled, winced, and dropped it with a resounding thud. I considered him carefully, ignoring my sword. The bruises looked like knuckles, I could tell. I gently held his chin with my left hand, checking for other signs of damage.

“Who punched you?”

Tidus rolled his eyes, and backed out of my grip. “It’s just from Blitz.”

I frowned, and let my hand fall at my side. I felt the gaze of Tidus’ friends, and quickly picked up my sword and returned to my room.

I closed the door, and I heard one of them speak.

“Your dad is weird.”

“He’s… not my dad,” Tidus said, and my heart skipped a beat. What did I expect? That he would claim me as his when I wasn’t? Maybe I’d hoped for it. Selfish as usual.

I sat on my bed, and propped my sword against the nightstand. My jug was on top of it, and I uncorked it, surprised to find it full. I took a long drink, and the comforting acidity worked through my veins. I had missed the feeling it gave me, but it did always remind me of Braska, which was more painful than it was worth.

My hand twitched, and I rested it on the bed beside me, feeling obtrusive even behind my closed door.

I took another drink, and looked out the window.

I remember the feeling of pain in my wrist and drink in my mouth.

It was different when I was alive. I needed the drink to quiet the pain.

Kinoc had cleared out of our shared room, and it was haphazard. It looked as if several of the things he had taken belonged to me, and the only things left were my sword, armour, bedroll, and a jug of expensive alcohol. There was also the silver charm Kinoc had given me when we became roommates. The rest of the room looked like an empty shell.

I scrambled to open the jug, and swallowed as much as I could without choking. It was a gift from the girl’s family. A gift to welcome me, to assure material comfort within their family.

I laughed bitterly, and drank deeper, trying to ignore the pain sizzling in my wrist. It was going to get infected. It was already peeling at the edges. I braced myself, and gripped my blanket. I splashed some of the potent liquor over my wrist, and bit down hard on my blanket to suppress a scream.

Maybe it wouldn’t get infected now, but the pain was unbearable. Trembling, I touched the burn, and the deepest part, the mark of Sin, was completely painless. Only the skin around it hurt.

I wondered if Braska had heard the news. Kinoc obviously had, and he was usually the last to hear about anything important.

I had one night in this room. I would have thought my leaving the temple would be more gradual, that I would have days to pack and prepare to leave.

I was surprised they hadn’t exiled me along with the excommunication.

I had a moment of doubt. Perhaps… Braska wouldn’t have me now… I had no business in looking for him, crying and pleading with him to help me. Not now. Not after being excommunicated.

“I am not worthy,” I said aloud. I don’t deserve to quiet this pain with magic. I can’t ask Braska to relieve it.

I drank until the jug was empty, and then carried it with me into town, dragging my belongings behind me. I stumbled, and bumped into several people, who glowered at me. They knew me. They knew my name and disgrace. A man shoved me, and I slammed into a wall. He spat on me. The town got darker and dirtier as I walked, and the people became less hostile and more like me.

“Need more drink, friend?” A slurred voice asked. A hand slapped me on the back, and I tilted my head towards him. His face was blurry, but he stank of drink.

“Yep,” I said, and held my jug upside down.

“Come on this way then,” the man said, taking my arm and leading me down a darker alley.

I trudged along beside him, grateful someone was making decisions for me. It was easier this way.

“Try this on,” he said. “It’s the best I got.” A tall heavy bottle was pushed into my hands, and I drank without question.

Eventually, I’d be poisoned enough to forget everything. The closest we can get to death without dying. That’s where I can find peace.

“Yevon help you, man. That was the whole bottle. You want more? Got any money?”

I offered him Kinoc’s charm, all sentimentality lost. He took it and left. I was aware how many gil that charm was worth, and the two bottles he returned with were considerably less.

“I’m gonna have a good night, friend!” He clapped me on the shoulder. “You good here? Need any more? Or dyou wanna come along and get some women?”

I shook my head, and slumped further down the wall. I raised a bottle in cheers, and drank deeply. I was still waiting for the ignorance to come. For that bliss. It had to be at the bottom of one of these bottles. Perhaps… it’s not the bliss I was hoping for. There was enough poison here to kill a stronger man than I.

I wanted the sting in my throat, and the buzzing in my mind. My heart pounded, and closed my eyes with a sense of finality.

Brief images swam in front of me, the man with the drink returned, and I heard voices, dull and throbbing with each heartbeat. I began to walk away, but the world was underwater, and it was hard to breathe. Someone grabbed my arm, and I wrenched it away. Their hand grazed over my brand, and I let out a strangled cry. There was a bottle in my left hand, and I brought it to my lips, and drained it.

I threw the bottle, and someone shouted.

A fist hit my lips. I swung back.

This is my bliss.

The commotion must have led Braska right to me.

I saw him in the crowd, the group of men that challenged me while I roared for a battle. His eyes were blue and sharp as broken glass. He was wearing white, acolyte robes. He stuck out from the crowd, being the only pristine thing in sight. I wished he had abandoned me. I was wild, my composure discarded along with the green robes of the Warrior Monks.

I stood in a circle of bleeding and bruised men, bare-chested and disgraceful.

Braska looked frightened.

Please, just leave. Don’t try to help me.

I gnashed my teeth, and bit down hard on the bottle in my mouth. I spat, and smashed the bottle at my feet.

Just go, Braska. You will find a guardian worth so much more than me.

He turned away, and my heart leapt. Both joy and sorrow clashed, and I covered my mouth to stifle the sound.

Braska appeared in the middle of my drunken bliss and spoiled it. He was there, with understanding eyes and his presence only showed me how utterly foolish I was.

It was no different now. I tried to follow his movements, watching the white blur among the crowd. Someone punched me in the back of the head, and I swivelled and fell down heavily.

A spell washed over me, and I sensed Braska’s magic.

“Leave…” I groaned. “Don’t.”

“Silence, Auron.” Braska’s voice wasn’t cutting, or stern. Just a simple command. “Esuna.”

I curled up as an uncomfortable pressure built in my stomach, and abruptly, I was throwing up an alarming amount of liquid. It was as acidic as before, but there was no pleasure here.

“Esuna.”

Another round of choking, and I felt hollow, as if I had expelled all of my insides along with the alcohol.

“Cura.”

Braska’s magic instantly concentrated on the brand.

“What? What the-“

I passed out.

I heard Yuna’s voice as I came to, and knew I was safe.

Shame.

The bed underneath me was soft, and I was covered in heavy blankets. I tried to speak, but my mouth was parched. The sound I made was ugly.

Braska was at my side instantly, and still had that frightened look.

“Auron… Auron, are you alright?”

I was hungry, and thirsty, and my head felt as if thousands of drums were playing off-rhythm inside. The taste in my mouth was disgusting, and I was afraid to speak and have that stench offend my Lord.

I nodded instead, and sat up. I went to rub my face with my right hand, and found it lifeless beside me. My fingers twitched slightly, but my arm was immobile.

Fear plunged into my chest like an icy dagger, and I tried again to move my arm. Braska stopped me, and whispered another spell.

“Don’t try to move it just yet. I’m still working on repairing it. They…” Braska turned away, and I could hear rage trembling low in his voice. “They were cruel.” He stood, and came back to the bed with a cup of tea. “Drink… it’ll help.”

The idea of drinking anything else this evening was nauseating, but I did as I was told. Braska’s tea was divine. I noticed then that his white robes were streaked with blood and mud.

It was not lost on me the significance of dirtying his robes. I was a fool.

“May I hold you, my friend?” Braska’s voice was quiet, and unassertive. A question with no hostility or expectation.

I said nothing, which I hoped he would take for an affirmation. He did, and sat next to me, with his long arms draped around my shoulders. His hand came to rest on my head, and I buried my face in his chest, trying to maintain my composure. I heard him murmur a healing spell, which cooled the pain in my wrist but did nothing to quiet the ache in my heart.

“I have nothing to offer you, my Lord. I’m… I’m useless now. If I can’t defend you, how am I to be a guardian?”

“You will heal. And even if you don’t, you are more than just your sword. You are my shield, Auron. Your presence gives me the courage to go on. Please, continue to be my guardian.”

“My Lord…” I winced, and dropped my hand to my knee, which until now was grasping his arms. “Thank you, my Lord. I was a fool. I’m… I’m so sorry!”

Braska shook his head, and held me close.

I could still guard him. I can guard his heart. I don’t need a body to do that.

The memories made me tired. This pyrefly body recalls memories more potently. Like watching them again in a sphere.

I had taken numerous drinks from my jug, but it was still full. Convenient.

There was a ruckus from the common area, and I went to my door, listening. Laughter mostly, and loud noise from a sphere. It was as if the Blitzball stadium was directly outside my door. Presumably, they had the volume so high to drown out the rainstorm outside.

Curiously, I opened my door a crack, and peered into the common area. Tidus and his friends were watching a large sphere of a Blitz game. Bottles littered the area, and I recognised them to be a brand of alcohol. A strong one.

That would explain the volume, and the raucous behaviour of Tidus and his friends. I couldn’t allow it.

I opened my door, and stomped into the living room. Aria saw me first, and hastily turned the volume down.

“I- I’m sorry, sir!” she squeaked. “We’ll be quiet.”

“I’m not concerned about quiet,” I said, snatching the bottle from Tidus’ hand. “Where did you get this?”

Tidus waved his hand in an irritatingly arrogant manner. “Don’t worry about it.” His friends seemed to approve and laughed, taking drinks.

A memory of Jecht hit me forcefully, and I threw the bottle behind me.

“Do you think you’re adult enough for this?” I asked. He frowned up at me, and I gestured around, at his friends, who were gaping at me. “You all think you are ready for the consequences of this?” I fumed, remembering the taste of blood on my lips, and the violence I created under the influence of the drink. Even now, I could feel it puppeting me. I wouldn’t act this way sober.

“It’s fine, Auron. What do you think we’re gonna do, go set fires or something?” Tidus laughed, and his friends joined.

I clenched my teeth, but couldn’t contain my words. “You’re acting like your father.”

Tidus was shocked for a moment, and then his face changed to pure fury. He stood, and his friends watched apprehensively.

“Party’s over,” Tidus said, his voice trembling. “Get out.”

They cleared out in record time, and Tidus glared at me the entire time, looking as if he’d like nothing more than to punch me in the face.

I’d let him if he did.

He did.

It was a stronger punch than I was expecting, but not hard enough to knock me back or down.

“How dare you?” Tidus fumed.

I said nothing. An apology would mean nothing now.

“You-! You bastard!” Tidus shouted, and kicked the coffee table. Tears welled up, and he angrily wiped them away. “Don’t you ever compare me to him! I thought you, of all people, wouldn’t- I’m not like him!!!”

“Calm down,” I said. My mind was racing. I failed. I was supposed to protect him, and now this. I hurt him more than anyone else because I was his guardian.

“Shut up! You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my dad!”

Those words hit me like mine hit him. I wondered if he could see their effect.

Tidus roared in frustration. “Get the hell out of here! I don’t need you! Get out!!!” He stormed to his room, slamming the door so hard the picture on the wall just inside his room fell and shattered. He swore, and I heard the sound of glass breaking further.

I stood in the middle of the living room, and suddenly felt completely out of place. The houseboat swayed as the storm outside thundered on. Mechanically, I walked to my room, and retrieved my robe, my sword, and my jug. It was full. Of course it was.

I left. Like he wanted me to in the beginning. Part of me hoped Tidus would hear, and that he would follow, and part of me hoped I would never see him again.

The storm pounded in my veins and cut into me as I walked. I think I left the front door open. It didn’t matter. Not my home anymore.

I drank. Hypocrite. The pyreflies fluttered, and their shine dulled. I found myself at the beach, where Jecht had dropped me, where Tidus taught me to swim. It was bright then, but now it’s black as pitch.

The taste on my tongue was acrid, as if I were drinking rusty metal. I felt the expected numbness, and drank deeper, sake spilling over my lips and chin. The rain quickly washed it away, and I splashed some purposely over my face.

The jug was still full. I barked out a laugh, and stepped out into the water. If it was cold, I was beyond feeling it.

“Do you see me, Braska? Can you hear me, Jecht?!” I shouted at the sea. “I failed you!” Another harsh laugh broke from my lips, and I thrust the jug into the sky. “Cheers to you both!” I drank, and choked, but forced more down my throat. I coughed, and nearly dropped my jug. I held my sword limply, my fingers still seizing from the brand on my wrist. Water frothed around my legs and tugged me back and forth, indecisive to where it would take me.

I slashed at it with my sword, but it reformed. Just like Sin. Just like me. I can keep falling apart over and over, remembering these wounds, and letting them remember me, tearing me at my scar tissue seams until I’m dead in pieces again.

Because I’m marked as Sin.

I sat down in the waves, and they smashed against me, as if Jecht were pounding his fists on my chest. A flash of lightning exploded above me, and I remembered Braska’s holy light.

Braska above me, and Jecht below. I remember this. I brought my jug towards my mouth, and laughed again as all of it slopped down my front.

I was free now. I’m in this land, this city, world, whatever. My duty has been ripped from me, and now I’m free. Nothing I do matters, because there’s no one that cares what I do. Free.

I smiled, and lay back in the waves, wishing I could taunt a bolt of lightning to hit me. Come on, Braska. End me with your holy magic. Explode me into tiny pieces, let all the little pyreflies turn into something else.

A King, they said. Those voices that think I can’t hear them whispering. They wanted me to be a King of Fiends. And why not? I have no responsibilities any longer. I could be the one who makes demands. A reversal I would have never considered. I would bring people the fire in my skin. I would be drunk on their blood. I would destroy them so they could be free like me. This city would be easy prey.

I have never laughed like this in my life.

Of course this was the answer.

I was elated, and my bones broke. I felt peace as my blood turned white. I shrieked with laughter, and I tore out my heart.

My heart. I dug my claws into it; I’d rip it in half. One for the sky, and one for the sea. It yielded easily, and I grinned with cracked teeth.

“Stop it!!!” Someone screamed. A voice I thought I’d never hear again. A bolt of lightning hit the water, inches from my head. Or whatever my head was now.

Braska.

The storm quieted, and I floated, looking into the black clouds. A low rumble, cautionary, resonated in the air.

I was wrong. I know. Forgive me, Braska. Forgive me, Jecht.

My heart has been broken thousands of times. I was going to discard it this time instead of trying to repair it again.

I reorganised myself, and attempted to restore my body from the mess in the waves. The waves pushed me to the beach, and I rested on the soaking sand, trying in vain to stifle my sobs.

I just want to die. That’s all. I just want it to be over.

I curled up on my side, and felt the pain of the brand flicker to life in my newly formed arm. My jug nudged up against my hand, and I felt a flash of anger. I grabbed it, and hurled it into the sea, shouting.

After a moment, I heard a different sound from the waves. But it was the waves. They spoke.

“Auron… Auron… I’m sorry.” The waves were crying. Ah. Jecht. “Please, please try again.”

“Jecht,” I said, my voice scarcely more than a croak. “I’m tired.”

“I know… I know… we know,” Jecht murmured. “But please… for us… please, Auron.”

Something touched my back. Like before, I knew it was Jecht, but it wouldn’t look right. His voice was directly behind me, and I almost believed he could be there. Whatever it was, it rubbed my shoulders, and something that could have been Jecht’s forehead pressed against my back.

“Auron…”

“I will,” I said. “I will fulfil my promise. To you, and to Braska. I will change.”

“I can’t stop it. I can’t control it like I could before,” Jecht’s voice was wobbly, but still the rough deep tone I remembered. “…I keep killing people, Auron.”

Guilt pierced me like a spear. I was lamenting being marked as Sin, when this man- my companion- my brother _is_ Sin.

I was disgusting. Wallowing in self-pity to the point of self-destruction.

I had to be comforted by Jecht, whose struggle was a hundredfold more.

“Jecht, I’m-“

“Can you stand, Auron?”

I tried, my body still strange and distorted. Jecht helped me stand, and I turned as I felt his presence disappear. Something scaly slithered into the sea.

“I’m sorry I keep failing you, Jecht,” I said.

My chin dropped to my chest, and my arms fell at my sides.

The sea was calm.

I stood, barefoot in the sand, my robe heavy with water, and then looked up at the lightening sky. I wished for another bolt, just to hear Braska’s voice again.

“Go home, Auron.”

I nodded, and walked back up the beach. Just before the stairs, I found my sword plunged into the sand, with my jug placed neatly beside it. I shouldered my sword, and curiously, I pulled the cork on my jug. It felt heavy, so it must have been filled with seawater.

One sniff informed me that was not the case.

Shoopuf milk.

I had to laugh. I sat on the bottom stair of the dock, and I laughed until I cried.


	14. Distance

I don’t know how long I wandered.

_Go home._

I wasn’t sure if I had a home to return to. I was sure that Tidus wouldn’t welcome me back. If he was throwing my things overboard, I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.

Regret thrummed a heartstring, and I winced. I replayed the scene over and over, unable to forget the pain in his eyes. I put it there. Me. I was supposed to protect him and…

_Go home!_

More insistent. Jecht’s voice. Or was it Braska’s? If I didn’t listen, would they insist again? I could hear their voices again.

If I ignore them, they’ll keep talking to me.

I watched the sun rise and set over and over, meandering through the city. My thoughts were disjointed, and I fought fiends, or perhaps people. I couldn’t be sure of what I was doing, and it frightened me. I disappeared in the sun, and reappeared when the city was quiet. I stopped being able to feel the stones I walked on.

I saw Tidus, walking to school, and almost jumped off the building I was standing on to be at his side. He looked older. My humanity was remembered in an instant, and I nearly toppled over the edge in surprise.

“There you are!” Gemma’s voice called, from far below. Tidus didn’t react, he was listening to music on a sphere, and kept walking.

“I… Gemma…” I slurred. My tongue was unused to talking. My stomach rumbled, and I became aware of my skin and teeth. Greasy hair fell around my face, and my beard had grown thick. My fingernails were like claws.

“Don’t move!” Gemma pointed up at me, and then twirled her hand. A ring of smoke encircled her feet, and she soared up the smooth face of the building and to my side.

I swayed, and my body began alerting me of several protests. I was hungry. I was dirty. I needed sleep.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Gemma said. Her voice was stern, like Mama’s.

Mama. She would be so ashamed of me.

“She wouldn’t,” Gemma snapped. Did I speak out loud?

“You did,” she said, wrapping her arm firmly around my waist. “Don’t think. Just relax.”

I can’t. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where- what day- time- year? I was lost. I could walk through walls. The city was me. I killed. I killed people. I only wanted to hear their voices—

“Their voices?”

They would tell me to go home, and I wouldn’t listen because I knew they’d tell me again and I just wanted to hear them talk again.

“Sleep, Auron. Sleep and I’ll take you home.”

I can’t go. I have to hear their voices again.

“You can, I’ll show you. I’ll show you how.”

Coloured lights sparkled in front of my eyes and smoke filled my lungs. Comfortable dark.

_Go home._

Ah, their voices.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_He was a part of this city._

_He will remain a part of this city forevermore._

_To destroy us, he will destroy himself._

_He will make peace with that._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Eight months.

What sort of monster could live for eight months without food or sleep?

Gemma had brought me back to her home, and let me sleep. I lost several days to severe discomfort. Ravenous hunger battled with debilitating fatigue, and it took nearly a week to regain some semblance of normalcy.

Nightmares. I had almost forgotten their sting. Gemma would make no attempt to stop them, but she would be watching when I finally wrenched myself awake. I had never seen her sleep. Maybe she didn’t need to. She was a different sort of monster, I knew that now.

Birds of a feather.

Gemma’s home was small, and messy. I usually kept my home with Tidus—No. I kept Tidus’ home tidy, so I wasn’t used to clutter. I did notice Abel’s absence, and wondered what became of him. Maybe he died.

When I wasn’t eating or sleeping, I sat on the sofa by the window in the shadows, and listened to the sounds of life from Tidus’ home next door.

He laughed, and my heart warmed.

The image of his hurt expression slashed through any happiness that glowed in my heart, and it became painful to hear his voice.

I remembered Braska’s smile, and the blood on his face. I remember Jecht’s strong hands clapping against mine after a successful battle, pulling my hair, and hugging me. And I remembered those hands twisted into something grotesque.

“I don’t want to remember anymore,” I said softly, staring at the wall with dry eyes. I had just awakened from a nightmare, and my heart still thundered.

Gemma turned her head to me, and blew some smoke out the open window. Her rocking chair creaked, and she set her feet on the floor, steadying it.

“Why…?” I asked. “Why am I like this?”

“It’s because you haven’t forgotten exactly how your pain felt. Most people forget details, and move on, and time will numb the pain. Time has no effect on your memories. You keep them close to your heart, and you experience them over and over.” Gemma stood up, and tugged the blanket over my exposed shoulder. “You must be exhausted.”

I said nothing, and Gemma nudged me over and sat on the sofa next to me. She propped a pillow underneath my head in her lap, and began stroking my hair.

“Sleep, Auron. Sleep and find the peace I know is in your heart.”

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_We still hate him._

_We still want to destroy him._

_We will find him._

_Go ahead and try._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I fell.

The feeling was freeing. Flight and fall.

My heart was sick. I have sunk so low.

“Sir Auron!”

A light. A little voice in the dark.

“Good morning, Sir Auron!”

Yuna. I remember her. A part of Braska. His treasure. It was as if she was a spirit of light and forgiveness that was reaching for me, unafraid of the dirt I would leave on her hands.

I didn’t open my eyes right away, until the smell of Braska’s tea wafted over my face. My feet were aching.

“Are you hungry?”

My stomach grumbled in response, and an uncomfortable ache tightened in my insides. The drink was still sour in my mouth.

The drink. Last night…

Oh.

I finally opened my eyes, meeting Yuna’s brilliant mismatched ones. Blue and green. Unusual, but a mark of her singular personality.

“Ah! Here you go!” She indicated a tray that was laden with all manner of foods, and, most importantly, a large mug of Braska’s tea.

I sat up, and began the movements of the prayer to her in thanks. My wrist panged, and I stopped. Yuna shook her head, and gently placed the tray on my lap.

“We made a bunch since we weren’t sure what you like!”

I blinked. They considered me. They discussed me, and what I might like. They cooked together in Braska’s tiny kitchen, and prepared a meal for me.

Like a family might.

My face warmed, and I looked over the tray. Fresh fruits, sliced meats and cheeses, rice, pickles, fish, and a large pancake with dark syrup. Beside Braska’s tea was a tall glass of what I assumed to be shoopuf milk. There was also a roughly hewn wooden vase with a single lily in it.

Careful not to jostle the tray, Yuna sat on the bed by my feet, and pulled the covers up to look at them.

“You had lots of cuts and bruises, but Byby fixed them as much as he could. Do they hurt?”

“No, my Lady,” I croaked. My voice was hoarse, like an old man. “Thank you.”

“Please eat,” Yuna said, covering my feet back up. “Byby had to go somewhere, so I will look after you.”

“Thank you…” I said again.

“You’re welcome! I like having you here!”

The sun was illuminating her to the point of blinding, and she smiled. I had to look away from her brilliance, and began to eat. I was unaccustomed to sweet food for breakfast, but it was delicious.

This was Braska and Yuna’s food. Sweet. Sincere.

I was so grateful. I owe them so much. Their love must be protected.

I wasn’t worthy of them, but I would try to be.

I would try to be worthy of this family.

If they would have me.

“Ah, are you alright?”

I started, and Yuna was touching my arm, just below the elbow. I blinked at her, and felt a tear drop down my face.

“Did I hurt you?” Yuna asked, her eyes wide.

“No,” I said quickly, and brushed the tears away. “No, my Lady. I’m sorry.” I took another bite, and the sweetness filled my mouth. I chewed, red-faced and awkward, but the tears continued to flow. “Ah, no, really. I’m just- this is good.“

Yuna was flustered, and hugged me, pressing her face into my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sir Auron! Please don’t cry!”

I shook my head, and a peculiar happiness filled my heart. These tears were not of sadness. I am not alone.

Just as Braska said.

I straightened up, and took a deep breath. Yuna smiled, and I smiled back, though I felt mine was likely lackluster compared to hers. She reached forward slowly, and caught my tears, and then touched them to her cheeks. “Byby says when someone is crying, you can share it with them. Then it’s not so painful.”

After a few minutes, I was finished my meal, except the pickles, which I haven’t liked since I was a child. I must have been hungry though, I ate everything else. Yuna was a placid presence, and told me all about how her Byby was the most talented Byby there ever was. He would plant flowers with her in the courtyards, and even knew which ones grew in the shade, so they had some in their tiny room. He always made sure that Yuna was comfortable and happy before he went to bed, and he liked to put flowers in her hair and told the best stories.

“And he’s teaching me magic!” Yuna exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Look!” She whispered what sounded like Braska’s healing charm, and a white light sparkled on her fingertips. “I’m not very good yet, but it’s pretty!”

I nodded, and she beamed.

I smiled back.

 

++++++

 

“Sir Auron has pretty eyes.”

I heard Braska laugh. “He does.”

“They’re so dark and deep. I like them.” Yuna was silent a moment. “They’re nicest when he smiles. But he doesn’t smile very much.”

“Then you must thoroughly enjoy it when he does.”

“I do, Byby! His nose gets scrunchy when he smiles and it’s funny.”

I suddenly felt very self-conscious, and rubbed my nose.

 

++++++

 

“I like you, Auron.”

I dropped the parcels, and tripped on one of them, stumbling a few steps. I managed to keep a hold of the bottom box filled with Ethers. I wasn’t certain I had heard him correctly. It was a strange thing to say out of the blue, but then again, Braska did have a penchant for saying unexpected things. “M-my Lord?”

Braska grinned, and picked up the fallen parcels. One had opened, and the glow of Phoenix Down illuminated Braska’s face. “I like you. You are my most trusted friend.”

My face became hot, and I nodded, bowing slightly.

Braska laughed.

 

++++++

 

“And then the clever priestess found a– Sir Auron, are you listening?”

I was nearly asleep, but Yuna insisted on reading a story from her favourite storybook about the greatest White Mages of all time.

“Mmmhmm…” I managed, my eyelids too heavy to lift. Fortunately, Yuna couldn’t tell I was nearly asleep from where she sat in my lap. Braska leaned back a bit, keeping me from falling over completely.

I hoped I wasn’t drooling in Yuna’s hair.

“Keep reading, bumblebee. We’re both listening.”

 

 

++++++

 

“I’m certain the Travel Agency is near. I remember from…” Braska trailed off, and I filled in the blank. He must have been here with his wife, when they travelled the world together after their marriage.

Braska told me a few tales of their journey, and his expression would be light as he told the stories, only to drop into a somber darkness at their conclusion. I sometimes would think to ask him details of a destination, knowing he had been there before, but I didn’t for fear of seeing that dark expression again. I should guard him from those feelings, if I could.

“From what?!” Jecht spoke up, strolling boldly behind us, unaware of the delicate ground he trod on.

“Ah, from when I travelled this area before,” Braska replied. My Lord was always kind and understanding to Jecht’s brashness. He was graceful where I would be indignant. I wished to be calm and collected like him.

“Oh! You already did a pilgrimage or something?”

“Something like that,” Braska said.

Jecht nodded, and fell into step beside me. “How about you? You ever been here?”

We were just approaching what I assumed to be the mid-point south through the Thunder Plains, a place I had only been for moments before returning to Bevelle. The majority of my geographical understanding was to the north, from Macalania to Gagazet. I always found the further south I ventured, the less I could tolerate the heat.

“I haven’t. Not really. Be prepared for anything.”

Jecht laughed, and clapped me on the back. “Yikes, man. Loosen up a bit, huh?”

“It is true, Jecht,” Braska said, with humour. “There are many unpredictable fiends in the Thunder Plains. It wouldn’t be unwise to be on your guard.”

Jecht waved away our warnings, and his booming laughter and voice seemed to keep fiends away.

I missed travelling with them. Just the small conversations. The moments of brotherly affection.

I was happy on the pilgrimage. Even knowing where and how it would end. 

 

++++++

 

The Moonflow was just beginning to glow as we approached the shore. There was some commotion up ahead, notably the sound of a man shouting. There was a harsh shriek of a fiend, and I was running with my sword out before I had fully processed the noise. Braska was on my heels, but we left Jecht far behind. His reactions weren’t as quick lately, since he’d been marinating himself in the liquor given to us in the previous town.

The crowd of people before me hastily parted as I charged ahead. A Bunyip, something I had only seen in books, was thrashing over the body of a man, and a smaller form.

A child…

I heard a tiny sound escape Braska’s lips, and I leapt forward, kicking the Bunyip away from the fallen people. I followed the kick with a crushing blow from my sword, easily cleaving through the creature’s hard shell. Pyreflies sparked up my arm, and I hacked at it again, splitting it fully down the middle.

A cold blast of air nearly knocked me over, and I turned, staring up in awe at the beautiful form of the aeon of ice, Shiva. Her eyes seemed kind as they surveyed me, the same quality of quiet assessment that Braska had.

In one fluid motion, she gently placed her hand on my shoulder, and shoved me behind her while casting a flurry of icy magic towards the remainder of the fiends.

There was a screeching sound of metal behind me, and Jecht swore. I ran to his side, where he was just barely fending off another Bunyip with the beginner sword we had purchased for him in Bevelle. I focused for a brief second, and bashed the Bunyip in a critical point, thoroughly weakening its guard.

“There!” I shouted, turning my attention to the Snow Flans emerging from the woods. “Finish that one off!”

Jecht nodded, and his eyes became different. Calculating. Like I had only seen them when he practiced with his Blitzball. Perhaps he has the mind of a warrior after all.

A loud thump and the soft glow of ascending pyreflies informed me he was successful, as drunk as he was. Inefficient as it was, I did eventually hack the Flans into small enough pieces that they also ascended.

We were… too late.

The man and his daughter had been killed. The crowd had dispersed, save for the mother, who was clutching her husband and daughter and crying. A few elderly people were coaxing her away, and preparing the Sending adornments. Time was of the essence, particularly in a violent death.

Braska was to Send them. In the stifling humidity, he had removed his headdress and large robes, and his presence was somewhat diminished. Underneath his large robes, he wore the simple tunic of the acolytes in the temple, though his was a deep blue instead of white. Beads of sweat dotted his upper lip and forehead, but he stepped forward with purpose, and held his ornamental staff steady.

I had never seen his expression so stony. He couldn’t let his eyes linger on the limp form of the girl, and instead focused on the soft rush of the Moonflow. Undoubtedly, his mind was on Yuna, back in Bevelle, and if such a fate could have been hers, clutched in the arms of her sobbing mother on the banks of the river while her father’s body grew cold.

I shivered, and attributed it to the presence of Shiva, though she was much too far away to affect us where she stood like a sentinel at the forest’s edge. She gazed at me, and nodded slightly. I bowed back, but omitted the prayer. I hoped it wouldn’t offend her.

The horizon grabbed at the sun with greedy fingers, and the light that fell over the land was fiery and opulent.

Braska took his first step onto the water’s surface, and the Moonflow burst to life. Pyreflies coalesced underneath his footprints, and blazed with opal light before breaking the surface and trailing lazily behind him. The moonlilies, something I had only read about, bloomed in ripples from where Braska stood, and the river surged with his dance. Pyreflies blossomed from the hasty seals and flowers on the chests of the man and his daughter, a beautiful image amid carnage and the screams of the one left behind.

Braska twirled, his movements were more direct than other Sending dances I had seen, but still graceful. The water beneath his feet spiralled around him, and he skipped over the drops expertly. Moonlilies were swept up in the spinning pillar of water he danced on, and my world stopped.

One heartbeat. This man was different.

Two heartbeats. This man was beautiful.

Three. This man would defeat Sin. There was no doubt in my mind whatsoever. The determination that he commanded, and the purposeful elegance of his hand. This was the summoner that would bring an eternal Calm.

My conviction to protect Braska, to guide him and guard him, had never been so strong.

His completion of the pilgrimage was my reason to be.

My purpose was shaky before, but now it was stronger than Sin.

I owed it all to Braska.

Happiness filled the dark spaces in my heart.

Perhaps I could stay here, in this feeling, with Braska dancing surrounded by moonlilies, and Jecht at my side.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Ha._

_Ha ha._

_He is a fool._

_Let him be._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

“Do you know where he went, Gemma?”

Tidus’ voice. It was deeper than I remember.

“I do, yes,” Gemma replied.

I sat up, and rubbed my eyes, listening carefully. From where I sat, he sounded close, he was just outside the window I slept next to. It was dark in the room, there was no way he could see me in here with the bright sun outside.

“He’s… okay, right?” Tidus asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Cause… y’know, he has bad dreams. And he… he’s really sad. I just wanna know if he’s okay, wherever he is.”

“I will ask him, next time I see him.”

Tidus sighed, and I heard the scrape of a chair on the deck. A loud thump, probably his Blitz practice bag. “I feel bad.”

Another scrape, and the creak of another chair. I angled myself so I could see outside the window a little better. It was bright, and Tidus was sitting near the railing, his hair bright gold in the sunlight. He was tan, and the childish roundness of his cheeks was nearly gone.

How long had it been?

“Why?” Gemma asked. “He left you. What do you have to feel bad about?”

Her words hurt, but they were true.

“Just… I yelled at him that day,” Tidus dropped his chin into his hand, and looked over at his houseboat. “I was being dumb. But he said I was being like my old man, and it made me mad.”

“I see,” Gemma said. A puff of smoke floated past the window. “What did you say?”

“I told him to get out, that he wasn’t my dad,” Tidus said quietly. He bit his lip, and scratched the back of his head. “I could tell it hurt him. And I haven’t seen him since so…”

“I suppose what you said is true, he isn’t your father, so—“

“I wish he was,” Tidus blurted out.

My breath caught in my throat, and I froze.

“I do. I wish Auron was my dad instead. He’s been better to me than anyone else. I mean, yeah, he’s kinda weird, but I like that. Everyone always compares me to my old man, but I wanna be like Auron!” Tidus spoke quickly, as if he had all of this saved up to say at once. “He’s honest. He’s awkward with stuff, but he’s… kind. My old man was honest, but he was mean. I don’t ever wanna be like that.” Tidus slumped, and dropped his hands in his lap. “I miss Auron.”

“I will tell him,” Gemma said.

“Ah, maybe, uh… Maybe don’t tell him all that. I dunno. Just… tell him to uh, go home, I guess,” Tidus stammered, and he stood up. “I’m making risotto if you wanna come over later.”

“I think I shall,” Gemma said.

“Thanks, Gemma,” Tidus said, and gathered up his bag. “See ya later then.” He began to walk away, and was out of sight when Gemma spoke again.

“You are like Auron.”

Tidus’ footsteps stopped and Gemma continued.

“You both have endured pain, but you are still kind men. Not everyone that suffers as you have remains good.”

Tidus said nothing, and walked down the plank to the dock.

Gemma leaned against the window frame, and tapped her pipe against it. “There were no lies in what you just heard.”

My head was bowed, and I covered my mouth with both hands, staring at the indistinct shapes in the darkness.

“It’s time to finish what you started here. The Fayth are growing confident in your disappearance.”

I nodded, and stood.

“You’re the only one that can end the dream. You know that, right?”

I took a deep breath, and grabbed my red robe. “I understand.”

“Can you endure until it’s over?”

Tidus wants me to be his father. I trembled with guilt, but the notion made me glow with pride. Would Jecht be happy, or would he hate me for this? Whatever the answer, the knowledge gave me strength.

I would be the father Tidus needed.


	15. Echo

I was ashamed. I had to return, but… I didn’t expect a warm welcome. Despite what Tidus had said, I felt he would be distant with me. I had become like his father in his eyes, in more ways than one.

Before I could face him again, I had to clean myself up. I unearthed Gemma’s bathroom from a mountain of old clothes and mementos. A bath was highly desired and necessary at this point, since for the past week, I’d just been in a haze on Gemma’s sofa. I had regained my humanity, and with it, all the living problems.

All Gemma’s soaps smelled like Spiran soaps. I wondered how old they were. There was even one that resembled Braska’s scent.

I was standing in the bathroom while the bath filled, smelling the yellow bar of soap when Gemma tapped on the doorframe while remaining out of sight.

“Decent?” she asked, gesturing amusedly with her pipe.

I was wearing just a towel around my waist, but I was far from being embarrassed by Gemma anymore. “Yes.”

Gemma rolled her shoulder around the doorframe, and smiled. “That’s Bedohl soap you’ve got there.”

“Bedohl?” I sat on the edge of the bathtub, and steam from the hot water caressed my back. The word tickled in my mind, but I couldn’t recall where I had heard it.

“Very old. This old boat is full of relics. Nothing changes in this space. Not unless I want it to.”

“Does that include me?”

“I have no desire to change you, except maybe to let you sleep more soundly.” Gemma stroked her chin, and nodded at me. “Keep the scruff. It suits you.”

“May I use this soap?”

“You are welcome to anything in this boat.”

“Thank you.”

The bath had filled, and I turned to the tap and twisted it shut. When I turned back, Gemma had gone.

I sunk into the bath, keeping the towel close by.

It was strange, the amount of things that Gemma had stacked up. There were books, and clothing, and a lamp in a pile closest to the bath, and a myriad of other similar piles throughout the bathroom. I could only assume she had no need of the facilities.

The tap dripped and I pressed my feet against the wall on either side of it.

The Bedohl soap smelled familiar. From Braska’s home, and the travel agencies. Al Bhed then.   
Alb Bedohl. This soap is a thousand years old.

I stared at it for a moment, feeling utterly insignificant. A thousand years. Gemma has been in this dream, waiting, preparing, pruning (as she called it). My seven years were drops in the ocean of her patience.

Everything else in this room, all relics of time gone by, time stagnating. I was the youngest thing in the room, and yet I still felt enormously old.

My face felt craggy when I touched it now, wrinkles as deep as my scar. My blind eye still hovered in limbo, never seeing anything past my death, and as such, a reminder of my foolish youthful rage. Braska wouldn’t recognise this old soul now. Jecht would laugh and call me a ‘geezer’ or whatever word he used. My fingers scraped over the stubble on my chin. It suits me. I’m no longer the young pup I was. No sense pretending to be.

Even so. I wondered if Tidus would find me frightening.

The people in the travel agency did. Even those battle-hardened Al Bheds recoiled in shock when they saw me lumbering over the bridge near Yojimbo’s cavern.

I registered that dimly. I couldn’t focus on their revulsion when the only command my brain could process was _walk._

Shouts and cries snapped like twigs around my ears, and unfamiliar forms blurred in front of me. _Walk._

I was misshapen, bloody and broken and rejected by the mountain. A noise, high-pitched and keening, threaded through my brain and I could swear the names of my friends appeared on the palms of my hands.

I looked again, and there was nothing but black rust blood.

Branches- no. Hands touched me, and it felt like they were ripping my skin away like the papery cocoons that appeared in the temple windows in the spring. We would clean away the dead ones and discard them. It was the appropriate thing to do. Sometimes, a jewelled butterfly would be flapping around the dead husks. I doubted I could emerge from this as anything beautiful like that.

_Walk_. Even as they pull you back. Even as they tear you to shreds and look at the pieces with awe and disgust. What a marvel that something so vile can keep walking around like it’s a human being.

A song. I heard a song

then, and I

heard flowers.

A black paper moon hung in the sky.

A song. Lured out of the rushing water.

Enticing, the silk of the flowers smothered my lips.

The smell

was deafening.

I kissed the earth, and stole its beauty when I had none left.

I tore the flowers out of the earth to stay next to it when the hands ripped me away like an old scab.

I wanted to stay.

My body had bled out in the flowers, and only part of me returned to Spira. The hard edges of bottles split my lips, but the drink within was to heal, not to destroy.

Fragments of Al Bhed snapped past my ears, and I could only make out a few words. Braska had taught me, but it was so hard to understand through their panic.

_“Kad sa yhudran Ameqen! Drec ec Cen Auron!”_

Don’t waste your money on me. Let me go.

“Let me go…” I slurred, and my voice oozed from my mouth like thick mud. Flower petals tickled my teeth.

“ _Cen_ _Auron!_ You must tell us what has happened!”

The Calm had come. Was there any doubt?

“What of Braska? Has he done it?”

I wanted to reply with dignity. Stoic, as a guardian should be. Instead, a low wail grew in my chest, and I clumsily covered my face with my hands.

Shaking off that memory, I washed my face using the Al Bhed soap. That Travel Agency in the Calm Lands was a place I was grateful I’d never see again. Absently, I ran my fingers over the crumpled scar on my forehead, and thought back to that Agency when I was alive.

It was the last comfort we would find on our journey. The last time we would be able to sleep comfortably in a bed or enjoy a hot bath.

After passing by Bevelle, I couldn’t get thoughts of the Via Purifico out of my mind. Whenever I looked at Jecht, I could only reach the conclusion that he had been a victim of a similar place. I had heard of another deeper dungeon, but that place only existed as a rumour, something whispered but kept in the shadows.

I had been staring at Jecht for nearly ten minutes before he noticed.

“What’s up?” he said, with a gruff laugh, splashing some of the bath water at me. “I got something on my face?”

I looked down, failing to meet his eyes. It was so personal. I couldn’t just ask him how his body came to be marked so. I imagined the pain, and what he must have done to earn such a punishment. Scars were commonplace in Spira, but Jecht’s were so extensive that they appeared intentional. Who could have done such a thing to him?

He shuffled closer to me, and I looked up, immediately focusing on the scars that ran over his face. “You got something to say, pretty boy?”

I shook my head, and cast my eyes around for any distraction. Braska was no help, and seemed as curious as Jecht.

“Nah, what’s on your mind? You kept taking breaths like you were gonna say something, so spit it out!”

I hadn’t realised I was doing that, and frowned. “It’s not prudent.”

“Prudent? Pff, I don’t care about prudent!” Jecht laughed.

“I… had a personal question,” I said slowly. “But I do not want to offend you.”

“Ask away! You couldn’t offend me if you tried!”

I doubted that, and pressed my lips together, formulating a tactful way to ask. “How… how did you earn those scars?” I asked, pointing with my left hand. On the subject of scars, I kept my right hand hidden underneath my washcloth, and hoped Jecht wouldn’t mention it.

The question did seem to strike him dumb for a moment, and he looked at me with wide eyes before grinning. “Oh, these? They look cool, don’t they?”

I blinked, and furrowed my brow in confusion. “They look… cool?” Even Braska looked confused, but he was watching silently.

“Yeah, I got ‘em so I’d look like a badass warrior, so the other team wouldn’t wanna mess with me!”

Realisation was dawning on me, but I pretended to be confused, hoping he would tell a different truth. “You were fighting fiends and purposely injured yourself?”

“Nah, man. Just got ‘em where I got my tattoo! Just for fun, hey?”

I wondered what my face was doing that made his expression change.

“Ah, I mean… y’know…” Jecht stammered, his eyes raking over my arms and shoulders where the whip marks shone bright pink in the hot water.

Seeing Jecht speechless was nothing short of a miracle, but I couldn’t focus on it. Those scars were self-inflicted. Something he did to pretend he survived something horrible. To look tough. Like a warrior. For _fun._ I reeled, and his presence was overwhelming suddenly.

I stood, and strode through the water, utterly shocked. I glanced at Braska once, and his mouth was open slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t think of the words.

Silently, I got out of the bath, and retrieved my towel. I couldn’t even be angry, I was so stunned. I left, and returned to our sleeping quarters, just adjacent to the bath. A shiver ran through me, and I tugged my robe on and settled into my bed. I imagined Jecht and Braska were sitting in a stony silence, when I heard Jecht’s voice through the open door. I doubt they expected the sound to carry so well.

“He’s mad. That was… uh… the truth. But I don’t think that’s what he was thinking.”

Braska’s voice was soft, and difficult to hear. “I’m sure he wanted to know so he might comfort you.”

“’Comforting’ doesn’t really suit him,” Jecht said, and then sighed. “But he’s got… you know…”

“The whip marks.”

“A whip? Dammit, I thought so, but it seems so…”

“Barbaric,” Braska supplied. “I agree.” His voice was flat, but I could hear it tremble a bit. “They weave Malboro barbs into the whips in the Via Purifico,” he paused, and I heard some water sloshing. “-sure that they scar permanently.”

“Barbs- What the- Who the hell did that to him?” I pulled my blankets up to my chin, as Jecht echoed one of my questions. “-he do to deserve that?”

“It was my fault,” Braska murmured. I couldn’t be sure that was what he said, but I knew Braska well enough to fill in the blanks. I wished I could ease his worry about it. After all, he had healed me. No harm done. “I made a mockery of a ritual, and the temple took it out on him. As a lesson to me without violating their doctrines.” Braska’s voice grew bitter. “A step to reach glory, tch.”

“The temples… they’re messed up.” Jecht said, his voice affected with a softness I hadn’t heard before. A loud splash sounded out, and Jecht raised his voice. “That’s messed up!”

I curled up under the blankets, and tugged them over my ear so I couldn’t hear any more. I rested for a moment. The bedroom door banged open, and I snapped to attention, my hand immediately on the hilt of my blade. Jecht was standing in the doorway, looking at me fiercely. He had thought to put his shorts back on, thankfully.

“I’m sorry,” he said loudly. He cleared his throat, and his eyes wandered to my wrist, where the brand was in plain sight.

I scowled, and released my sword, covering my wrist with my sleeve.

“I wasn’t thinking,” Jecht continued.

“That’s obvious,” I snapped.

“I’m tryin’ to apologize here!”

“I don’t need an apology! Not from someone that’s never seen the walls of the Via Purifico!”

“What’s the Via Purifco?” Jecht asked, taking another step into the room. He was standing above where I sat on the bed, and he actually looked curious. And perhaps… remorseful.

I stood up too, not wanting to be looked down on, and made to brush past him, but his caught me by the upper arm. “Auron. What is the Via Purifco?”

“The Via Purifico. It’s where sinners go to be punished- _Corrected_ ,” I said through clenched teeth. His ignorance infuriated me. “Where you were headed before Braska saved you. You, with your voluntary scars that you wear so proudly. Perhaps seeing the walls of that place would make you less bold. Scars are something to be ashamed of. They are only a mark of failure! As a man, and as a warrior! As a guardian!”

My gaze was as sharp as my voice when I finally met his eyes. He looked completely astonished, and tears shivered in his eyes. I wrenched my arm out of his grip and strode to the door. Braska appeared there suddenly, clothed in his white sleeping robe, and I stopped a moment, before bowing my head.

“Excuse me, my Lord,” I said, as I made to step past him.

Abruptly, Braska flung his arm out, and pressed his palm against the doorframe. “Wait.”

I waited, taken aback by his sudden movement. Braska stepped inside the bedroom, and closed the door securely behind him. He looked from me, to Jecht, who was standing stock still, with his back to us.

“Auron. Those words…” Braska surveyed me, with no brightness in his blue eyes. “Anger brings out our most painful truths. Do you really believe those words you just spoke?”

I felt like a child, being reproved for something foolish. Heat coloured my face, and I frowned at the folds of Braska’s robes around his neck.

“Yes, my Lord.”

I expected another reprimand, or perhaps a long silence. Braska, though. He often acted outside of my expectations. He took a step towards me, and I expected him to hit me. He must have assumed that, for when he embraced me, it was the gentlest touch I had ever felt. His hand journeyed over my back, and I could tell he was imagining the scars beneath my robe. It came to a rest on the back of my neck, and he held me. My mind reeled, and I wished I could have gone back in time, and never questioned Jecht at all. This was all my fault.

My arms felt heavy at my sides, and I was ugly next to Braska. His other hand ghosted over my wrist, and he spoke.

“These scars were earned. From being a guardian. To those you love, and those you swore to protect. These are proof. They do not mark you as a failure. They only show your devotion.”

I said nothing. His words echoed in my mind, and I wanted to apologize to both of them. Slowly, I lowered my head onto Braska’s shoulder, and we stood in silence for a moment.

Braska was about to speak, when Jecht suddenly whirled around, and stomped towards us, crushing us both in one of his famous Jecht hugs.

I opened my mouth to protest, and then closed it, choosing to remain in stony silence. I couldn’t just resume our usual banter. Not after what I had said.

“C’mon, Auron!” Jecht teased, grinding his knuckles into the back of my head. “Where’s the piss and vinegar I’m used to, huh?”

Braska laughed, and squeezed my wrist once. I felt a swelling relief expand my chest, and I straightened up, with a brand new frown on my face. This was a different frown than the one I had on previously, and Braska and Jecht knew it.

Jecht bellowed out a loud laugh, and squeezed even tighter, lifting both Braska and I off the floor. “There he is! My- best- friend!” Jecht said, crushing us with each word.

I laughed, and he released us.

The following day, as we set out from the Travel Agency, Jecht fell into step beside me as Braska spoke to the proprietor, Rin.

“I am sorry, Auron,” Jecht said quietly. His voice wasn’t suited to being quiet, and I shook my head. “Nah, man. I got no idea what it’s like here. Even after all this time.”

“You apologized for your ignorance. I should have been more gracious.”

“Ignorance? Ha! That’s harsh!”

“What would you call it? I can’t think of a better word.”

Jecht laughed, and tugged on my ponytail. “Jecht the Ignorant! I think I can accept that as a title!”

“ _Sir_ Jecht the Ignorant,” I said, nudging him in the side. “You are a guardian, after all.”

“Oh of course!” Jecht snorted. “And you’re what? Sir Auron the Irritated?”

“The Irritated?” I smiled, which made Jecht grin wider. “Not very noble, but accurate.”

I found myself chuckling to myself, and sat up in the bath, wringing the water from my hair. I wondered if I saw Jecht again, if we could laugh like that together.

Maybe when this is over. Gemma wants me to help her end the dream, but I can’t truly commit. If the dream ends… won’t Tidus disappear?

I don’t want that.

I would fight Gemma to keep him safe. That seemed a dangerous thought. Mutinous, even.

The bath water was chilled now, and I pulled the plug from the drain with my foot, and got out.

When I returned to the living room, I noticed Gemma had gathered all of the items I had when I first arrived here. Nearby was an assortment of old clothing, and even the odd bit of armour. She did say anything on this boat was welcome to me, so I rifled through the pile, until I came across an old-fashioned gorget and collar. The metal was rusted, and I removed it from the rest of the collar.

When I saw myself dressed in the sliver of visible mirror on the back of the bathroom door I could have sworn a stranger was standing in my place. I lowered my chin into the appropriated collar, and looked again. Hidden. Closed off.

If I concentrated, I could imagine myself younger. Clean-shaven, black hair, exposed throat. Open.

The man that I became was closed. My scars are all concealed.

I considered my bare arm, and pulled my pauldron back over my shoulder, dropping my arm into the open front like a sling. I had read in some of the older texts that this particular look was for masterless warriors.

Warriors whose path had ended. Whose Lords had perished.

Ideal for me, then. It also made it so I never had to perform that wretched prayer again.

There was one thing left on the table where Gemma had placed my things. My sunglasses. She must have cleaned them; they shone bright in the dusty light.

I took a deep breath, and stepped out of Gemma’s home, pushing my sunglasses on as the sun greeted me harshly.

I felt like a new man. Not the same one Tidus banished, so I could greet him as someone new. A fresh start.

It was just after noon when I finally emerged from the dark shell of Gemma’s boat, and I wandered the pier aimlessly for nearly half an hour before I approached the ramp that led up to Tidus’ boat.

There was a large group of girls gathered near the entrance, and a few of them had spheres out and were giggling excessively.

I pressed my lips together, and sat on a bench opposite Tidus’ boat, and scuffed the toe of my boot against the deck. I had forgotten when Tidus’ practices ended. Maybe they were different now. I couldn’t be sure.

When he finally walked up the pier, he shone like the sun. I watched him closely as he strolled along, with a backpack slung over one shoulder, and his bright blond hair still dripping.

Suddenly, the group of girls erupted in screeches, and they all swarmed around him with their spheres.

He got his wish then, I thought, smiling as I remembered the crayon drawing of this exact situation.

He was gracious with the girls, and self-assured. That bravado was Jecht, no doubt. He laughed, and winked, and signed all manner of objects.

I suppose Jecht got his wish too. He wanted to make Tidus into a star blitz player, ‘show him the view from the top’, and he had, though it had come about through spite, no doubt.

The view from the top… As I looked at him, I observed Tidus was much taller than I remembered. He must have hit a growth spurt. He’s growing up. The pyreflies in my heart spun wildly, and it was all I could do to contain them.

Tidus noticed me then. Our eyes met, and his expression clouded over. He smiled at the girls, but was clearly dismissing them. They seemed fine, and hurried away in a pack. He didn’t walk up to me directly, but went to his boat, and motioned me over with a jerk of his head.

I stood, and followed him, feeling like a trespasser. The sound of his boots on the deck was familiar, and the rocking of the boat was welcome now. When I first arrived, that sensation made me feel nauseous.

I followed him inside, and it appeared not much had changed within the boat, except for the addition of several trophies and awards. I stood in front of them, and looked over the glittering collection. Impressive. Even I could see that, knowing next to nothing about Blitzball.

“Why’d you come back, Auron?”

I was silent for a long moment, and stared at a few of the picture frames in front of the trophies. One was lying on its face, and I wondered what photo it held. I raised my head fractionally, and spoke softly. It felt like years since I had spoken to Tidus.

“Someone kept telling me to ‘go home’,” I said.

“You… you still think this is your home?” Tidus asked. His question wasn’t sceptical, or acidic, simply a question.

I looked around for some affirmation, and found it at the window where he was sitting in Gemma’s chair. The tomato plant we had planted together all those years ago was flourishing, and the window was nearly obscured by it. Bright red tomatoes dotted it, and I couldn’t help but feel some kind of pride at that.

“It is the only home I have known in this place.”

“Where have you been?” Tidus asked, and that one sounded acidic.

I had no good answer, and looked at the trophies again. Curiosity outweighed my stoic judgment, and I lifted the downturned frame.

It was a photo of me. Taken not ten feet from where I stood. In the photo, I was reading a book, with my hand on my chin, from my left side. I looked ordinary. Not so tarnished and destroyed.

I was about to speak, when Tidus hugged me suddenly from behind. His hands locked around my waist, and pinned my arms to my sides.

His voice trembled. His eyes must be shining.

“Welcome home, Auron.”

 


	16. Herald of the Dawn

 

 

**Herald**

 

Tidus released me after a longer amount of time than I was comfortable with, but I owed him that. He turned away, and scrubbed at his face, before loudly clearing his throat.

“Uh… you hungry?”

I carefully returned the picture to where it sat, exactly as I had found it, face down.

Tidus looked from me to the picture frame, and then back to me. “I got stuff for risotto…”

I smiled softly, with my head bowed, and then realised he might not have seen because of my collar. “Ah, yes. If… if you don’t mind.”

“No, it’ll be nice to have company,” Tidus said, striding to the kitchen.

Immediately, I was struck with guilt, and I took a breath to speak.

“It’s okay!” Tidus smiled, and flapped his hands at me. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” He looked me up and down. “You comfortable? That looks a bit warm.”

I felt warm as he mentioned it, and I shrugged.

“Your… your room is still, you know. There. With your stuff. Clothes and your books.”

“You kept it?”

Tidus busied himself with the rice pan, and I could tell his nonchalance was an act. “Yeah, well, I don’t need a lot of space… it’s just me here, so…”

His sentence trailed off, and I nodded.

I suddenly felt out of place in my Spiran clothes. As obtrusive as the day I first arrived. Tidus smiled at me, and I wanted to be here. To be present in this place. Someone he could come home to.

I didn’t want him to cook for one.

I tugged at the front of my collar, and walked the familiar steps to my bedroom. The door was shut. Unlocked. I turned the knob, and slipped inside.

It was mostly as I had left it. I expected dust, but it looked like Tidus had kept tidying it. My bed was rumpled, as if someone had slept in it recently. I remember making my bed before I left. Perhaps it was more comfortable than Tidus’ bed and he would use it? He might have had friends over also.

I unbuckled my belts and slipped my robe off, returning it to the awaiting peg on the wall. My armour I returned to the closet, and the collar I put on the dresser.

My reflection in the dresser mirror hovered before me as I ran my fingers over the collar, and I averted my eyes. I didn’t want to look at that man. If I pretended I was young, maybe things could go back to the way they were. I tugged on a white tee shirt, and looked around for the red hooded sweater I often wore.

After a moment, I noticed a strip of red in the bed, and extracted my sweater from the tangle of blankets. I didn’t remember leaving it there.

It was still comfortable. I could wear clothing like this for the rest of my life. If Tidus would let me stay.

I didn’t know which version of me would be false.

Wearing my armour, I felt like a Spiran again. Like a warrior. My heart has been praying for that feeling. I could only feel that way with someone to protect. The blood and passion, the steel through flesh. A fierce defence of my Lord’s body.

But… the softness of the sweater. The warmth of a tight hug. These things hold value for the mind, and for Tidus, that’s what he needs more.

Tidus doesn’t need a warrior. He needs a father.

I have resolved to stay here and protect him like a father. There’s no reason I shouldn’t act like it.

I zipped the sweater up halfway, and returned to the living room. The picture frame had been righted, and I smiled softly.

“Huh, you look way more normal now,” Tidus said, a smile touching his voice. “Your other clothes look weird.”

I shrugged, and stood in the kitchen, drumming my fingers slowly over the surface of the table. I cast my gaze upwards, and the large scrape from the tussle with the flan still creased the ceiling.

“So… um… Did Gemma tell you to come home?” Tidus asked, busying himself with chopping a broccoli. He kept his back to me, and I could imagine his face was getting red.

“She did,” I said, taking a seat at the table.

“She didn’t say anything else, like maybe stuff I said to her about you?” His sentence grew quieter as he spoke, and he kept himself busier than necessary with the broccoli.

I considered lying, but, like all times I considered lying, I decided against it. “I heard.”

Tidus let out a long breath through his nose, and turned around abruptly. “Sorry!”

I furrowed my brow, and scratched my chin. “For what?”

“I said-! I said… you know, something mean to you,” Tidus said, looking down and away. “I thought you were never gonna come back.” His voice was almost inaudible.

I remained silent, and I could feel Tidus staring. It was my fault. He wouldn’t have said what he did if I hadn’t said… It was a sore spot, not one I could fix with these clumsy hands. If only I could have kept my temper.

I took a breath to speak when Tidus interrupted.

“It’s okay! You were right but I was just really mad and uh… I guess… Sorry.”

I finally looked at him, and he was in that familiar stance, scuffing his toes against the floor and scratching the back of his head. How I became used to that before Blitz practice was outdoors only.

“I apologize, as well,” I said. “My words were cruel.”

Tidus’ expression changed multiple times, and he settled on a strained smile. “I think I needed to hear it, though. I got way better at practice after then. And I started getting prizes and stuff. Cause…” He turned, and began ladling the broth into the risotto. “I think I… I _was_ acting like my old man. But I didn’t realise it. So… thanks, Auron.”

I nodded, even though he couldn’t see, and glanced out the window. My heart stopped, and I blinked, standing up immediately.

I thought I saw…

Impossible.

How could they…?

I crossed to the window, and cleared some of the tomato branches away to see out. The sky was already darkening, and I could have been easily tricked, but…

“What’s up? It’s almost done!” Tidus called, waving the ladle.

“I saw- I-“ I gaped, my gaze darting all over the pier.

“Saw what?”

“Braska,” I said. I omitted Jecht’s name, but he was there too. I was certain.

“What? Your friend, lord guy?”

“Yes,” I said, my heart pounding.

“But… Isn’t he…?” Tidus didn’t finish his sentence, but he didn’t need to. Braska was dead. Jecht too, after a fashion. And even when Jecht had appeared in this place… he wasn’t himself. Not like I had just seen them.

Wait. There. They were standing at the end of the pier, looking towards the setting sun. A dream. This has to be a dream.

I had to make sure. I ran to the front door, and slammed it open, thundering to the pier even as Tidus called after me. What a fool I am. Running away from that delicate situation with my brave beautiful boy, all for a dream.

Their backs were to me, and every part of them was convincing. The sunset shimmered around their silhouettes, and I could even hear the slightest hint of Braska’s laugh. My heart swelled, and I ran up to them, desperate to see their faces.

“Braska! Jecht!” I called, and they turned. It was them. Shining in the golden sun. I felt tears jump to my eyes, and I stumbled, reaching for them. Jecht’s grip would catch me just above the elbow, and keep me from falling, while Braska’s warm hands would catch my hands and-

Neither of them moved. One knee slammed into the pier and looked up at them.

“My Lord. Jecht. Is it… you?” I asked, my voice tiny.

Jecht grinned, that familiar smile that showed too many teeth, and bent down, clamping his hand on my shoulder. He didn’t speak. Of course he didn’t.

Braska took a step closer and I suddenly wished I had my sword.

These images aren’t my friends. Even knowing that, I still gazed at them, my heart aching with loneliness.

Jecht’s grip became painful, and his hands moved to my throat. The pyreflies under his crushing grasp rearranged frantically, but I couldn’t breathe.

I didn’t care. I looked at Braska, taking in every detail of his face, and my heart was at peace.

“Auron!” Tidus yelled, and a blitzball struck the image of Jecht firmly in the face. I fell back on the pier, and finally saw the images for what they really were.

A fiend, mutated from my understanding of it. There were bits and pieces of recognizable fiends, pieced together to create an even more revolting monster.

Tidus charged up the pier, dragging my sword as best he could. I grabbed it, and shoved him behind me.

The fiend snapped forward, countless heads with gnashing teeth charging towards Tidus. I caught one of the heads with the bladed side of my sword and slashed upwards, taking its head off completely.

I heard Tidus gasp, and I stepped backwards, pushing him back with my free arm.

The snake head of a Chimera darted forward, and I slashed at it but my sword fell short. Tidus grabbed me by the back of the sweater, and tugged me backwards with new strength I wasn’t used to. I landed hard on my back, and Tidus scrambled away, and retrieved his ball, readying another strike.

I rolled over, hopping to my feet and turned quickly, holding my sword against the advancing mass of the fiend. Its teeth screeched across the flat of my blade, and I held firm, planting my feet firmly against the pier.

“Run!” I yelled, sliding back a few inches.

Tidus didn’t listen, and instead, kicked the blitzball with practiced force, and landed a square hit against the largest head.

He laughed, and cheered. “I got him, Auron! Did you see-?” His words were interrupted as a long vine from part of a Malboro wrapped around his leg and he smashed into the pier.

He didn’t move.

Something in me changed. Teeth grazed my skin, but there was no blood, and I swung wildly, erratically. I hacked at the fiend until it crumbled into twitching bits. I kicked the pieces into the sea.

When it was done, I dropped my sword, and hurried to Tidus’ side. There was no obvious blood, but he was so still.

It was my fault.

Frantically, I placed my hands on his forehead, and tried to remember what Braska had taught me about white magic. I would practice on Jecht when he inevitably injured himself training. Small cuts and bruises were easy for me to heal by the end. I had even mended Jecht’s broken wrist, and a nasty burn on Braska’s back. Braska praised me for my newfound abilities, but they weren’t enough.

The familiar chill set into my bones, and the white sparks travelled from my fingertips into Tidus’ forehead.

He reacted instantly, and opened his eyes, confusion replaced by elation. “I hit it, Auron! Did you see?”

I didn’t speak, and he sobered up instantly.

“Uh. What was that?”

“I don’t know-“ I said, and coughed a few times. I tried to order the pyreflies to remove the bruises on my throat but they didn’t comply. “Ah, are you alright?” I guided him as he sat up, and we stood up together.

“Yeah… why’d you let it get you?” Tidus indicated the bruises on my throat. “You ran right up to it.”

“I… I was deceived.”

“You saw your friend, Lord, guy?”

I nodded, and Tidus patted my back.

“Nightmares, huh? But we got it! Didn’t stand a chance!”

His reaction threw me, and I looked at him curiously. “Yes…”

“That was a weird one!” Tidus said, grinning.

“The fiend… You’ve seen more?”

“There’s some that have been floating around the stadium, but usually we can just hit ‘em with Blitzballs ‘til they disappear. This one was strange, though, yeah. But it’s over, so come on in. Supper’s probably all starchy now, but it should still be okay.”

I furrowed my brow, and picked up my sword, following behind him.

As we ate, Tidus talked excitedly about his various trophies and awards, indicating the largest one to be some kind of tournament win, and how it meant agents were scouting him. I assumed that meant they wanted him for their team, and smiled.

“You’ve worked hard,” I said. “I’m proud.”

Tidus’ eyes grew wide, and he fumbled the ice cream scoop. It clanged noisily on the table. “Th-thanks, Auron!”

I nodded, and pointedly stared at the ice cream tub. Tidus laughed, and filled a bowl for me.

What a remarkable boy. His successes were all his own making.

If I had even a small part in making him this way… my life might not have been a waste.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Don’t be ridiculous._

_You’re nothing._

_You’re just a black mark on our city._

_Shut up! Shut up all of you!_

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

Tidus and I settled back into out strange household. I still felt oddly intrusive, and took care to keep all of my belongings in my room. He was absent for a majority of the day, and I took to patrolling the piers with my sword at the ready in case any other strange fiend should appear. If anyone asked, I had the backup story Gemma fabricated about me being a collector of antiquities, a curator from a museum looking for similar artefacts.

I saw spectres of Jecht and Braska, appearing as the sun dipped low on the horizon, every night. When the image cleared away, it was always some mutated being, composed of multiple fiends. I began to look forward to nightfall, just to see them before cutting down the beasts.

Every day I would go to the library, where I was welcomed back without much comment. I missed that place. It was peaceful there. Kai was nosy, and often talked at length about the city, and the wonders of the place.

An ordinary day, meandering through the encyclopaedias, my arms full of books.

“Kai!” Gemma’s voice, in a whisper from the next stack over, made me freeze in my tracks.

“Hello, Gemma,” Kai said, sounding disinterested. “What can I do for y-“

“You know very well why I’m here.”

“Hmm, I’m surprised it took you this long, really.”

I listened carefully. What were they talking about? They sounded like old acquaintances. Possibly even enemies.

“Give me the crown,” Gemma said, her voice fierce. “I know you’ve been hiding it. Give it back.”

“No,” Kai said. It was obvious he was smiling. “I don’t have to do anything you say ever again.”

“And you’ve been hiding the book from that boy, haven’t you?”

“Obviously,” Kai laughed. “Zanarkand doesn’t need a new king. Least of all your dead herald.”

Herald… Were they talking about me? Kai’s voice sounded hostile, harsh. I wasn’t used to it.

“If you won’t give it back, I’ll just take it,” Gemma said, and I caught a whiff of her tobacco smoke.

I almost spoke, when there was a deafening explosion, and the bookshelf crashed bodily into me, and pinned me to the ground. I could hear shouts, screams, as well as the thunderous sound of countless books toppling to the floor.

My left arm was crushed under the side of a shelf, but I could still clear away some of the books with my right. Bolts of magic were searing through the air, and there were already a number of small fires. I could see Gemma, casting a spell, as Kai nimbly leapt over the upturned bookshelves. He looked like he was laughing.

His eyes were completely focused on her, full of mocking mirth. I frowned, and managed to heft an ‘S’ encyclopaedia, and threw it.

It hit him in the side of the head, completely knocking the smile off his face. His eyes turned to me, barely visible under the collapsed shelf. His expression was different. No longer the hyperactive kind boy I knew.

With stunning haste, Kai was standing above me, and stomped heavily on the shelf. Something in my arm cracked. He laughed.

It was a familiar noise. The corrosive warmth of blood on my hands. The smell of burning. The feeling of helplessness. That _laugh._

The Calm Lands. A spider.

I screamed, but I couldn’t hear the sound. My pyreflies vibrated with rage, and I was flying towards him, ready to claw, to bite, to tear him apart. I didn’t need my sword for this battle.

 _Yevon._ The memory of him. Watching me, mocking me, laughing at me. Telling his wretched fayth to do the same.

His face was a bloody mess before I realised what I was doing. My last punch was nearly gentle, tapping his chin, and I looked up finally. Gemma was watching. She didn’t make a move to stop me.

After a moment of silence, punctuated only by the pit-pat of blood dripping from Kai’s face, Gemma took a step forward. She gestured with her pipe, and Kai’s neck snapped violently to the right.

Someone screamed. I stood up slowly, and left, merging with the crowds evacuating the library. I hid my hands in my pockets, smearing blood all over the inside.

I walked, on and on, not even aware of the pathway or where I was headed. This is how it felt after the Calm Lands.

If I kept walking, my thoughts wouldn’t catch up. The journey back to Zanarkand was a blur. That was the last place we were together. All three of us. So that’s where I had to go to get them back.

Maybe everything that happened was a dream.

“Auron!”

People called my name. I ignored them. There was too much confusion, and I escaped to the solitude of the mountain.

Someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. Gemma.

“Wait, your legs are much too long,” Gemma puffed, holding onto my sleeve. “I can’t keep up.”

“Kai was Yevon. His memory,” I said.

“Yes, and doing a fine job of hiding. He’s been changing, throughout the years.” Gemma sat on a nearby bench, and patted the seat next to her. I obliged, and sat down as she continued. 

“I retrieved these, finally.” She held up a tattered leather book, and a silver crown pendant. It reminded me of the necklace Tidus wore. I looked over the city to the piers several blocks away. Tidus was probably home now, preparing for the game later tonight. I had declined his invitation, since it was due to start at sunset. A game under the stars.

“I see,” I said. I was tired of Gemma's mission already. Those things meant nothing to me. I was fine with the life this city gave me. Tidus was happy. What more could I do?

“You don’t care?”

“No.”

Gemma was silent a moment, then the smell of her tobacco filled the air. “This dream is going to end. I want it to end soon. I want you to help.”

“Why? So I can be your new king? I heard your conversation. I thought myself a king once, and became a fiend.”

“Zanarkand will never have another king. It is time for this city to die. If you… if you will kill it.”

“What do I have to do with it?”

“You’re the Herald of the Dawn.”

I frowned at the title, and looked at the crown.

“Here’s the key.” Gemma gestured with the crown. “This dream cannot be ended from inside. I can hear the aeons calling from Spira. They’re so tired. More than you can even imagine.”

Spira… I hadn’t heard anyone speak that name in years.

“Sin is the doorway to return to Spira. If Zanarkand is revealed, the creature will attack it, not even knowing what it is doing. Yevon has completely lost control.”

“Using this key will bring Sin?”

“Yes, it will remove the barriers on the city, as only the king could do. Sin will come and you will return to Spira, and close the door for good from that side. Kill Sin. In doing so, you should be able to free Jecht as well.”

I swallowed, guilt seizing me. Jecht was still trapped in that monstrous body, and I was becoming lazy and complacent. I had entertained the notion of staying here in this place with Tidus, until I grow old and die. It was a betrayal to Jecht, and the memory of Braska, to simply live without rage. I needed to hate, to burn with anger, to avenge their deaths and to do so with honour. Honouring them would mean finishing what we started.

When we departed Bevelle by the setting sun.

“I… I saw him. Them.”

“Jecht?” Gemma asked. “And your Braska?”

“Yes. They were illusions before fiends would attack.”

“The fayth. They’ve been desperate. They too, saw your memories, and fabricated those images to trap you. They want the dream to continue, and they know you will end it. Their attempts have been misguided, and lately, clumsy.” Gemma blew a cloud of smoke, and it resembled the grid of a protection spell. “Even now, they’re trying to get at you.”

I realised then how much Gemma had been protecting me. Whenever I smelled smoke, that probably meant danger she was keeping at bay.

“I will,” I said, moving to kneel before her. “I will end the dream.”

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Die!_

_Stop this!_

_It’s over._

_This dream is done._

o-o-o-o-o-o

 

I returned home, for what I knew would be the last time. Tidus had already left, and there was a note on the table informing me of sandwiches in the refrigerator.

I’m leaving. Gemma was preparing the key, door, whatever.

To Spira. I’m returning to Spira. I felt sick with apprehension, and a deep dark pit of sadness to leave this place. This place was my home now, and it pained me to think of Spira. The trees, the sky, and mountains. The threat of Sin. A place for a warrior.

I undressed, and stood a moment in front of the mirror. The Herald of the Dawn. An ugly scarred man, alone, frowning. Devastatingly lonely, and it only made him uglier. Not a picture of hope. 

It took only a few moments to redress, and I re-examined myself. A warrior of Spira. A paper doll crumpled up that could never be smooth again. An old man in young man's clothes.

I wandered our home, wondering if I should take any remembrances. I closed my eyes, and memories crowded in my minds’ eye.

Tidus laughing and singing and playing and crying. Tidus. He was the only thing in this Zanarkand I wanted to take with me. Jecht found life in Spira. He became more than pyreflies and dreams. Life is the best I can offer Tidus.

I will save my son.

 

o-o-o-o-o-o

_Arrogant!_

_Kill him!_

_I can’t-_

_You lost. There is a new king. Come and see him, Yevon. Watch the Herald of the Dawn destroy your night. He is the one who will give us tomorrow._


End file.
